


Voltron: Legendary Groomsmen

by CapitalFantasy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Keith (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecurity, Keith (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lotor (Voltron) Being an Asshole, M/M, Male Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Minor Character(s), One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, References to Depression, Rich Lance (Voltron), Top Lance (Voltron), Trans Pidge | Katie Holt, other characters not mentioned in tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 55,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapitalFantasy/pseuds/CapitalFantasy
Summary: "So, do you want to be my Best Man?" A wordless reply of a nod rubbing against his broad chest was the simple answer Shiro needed.Another shaky laugh escapes Keith's squashed lips before he pulls away; eyes cloudy and cheeks wet, he hollers, "MY BROTHER IS GETTING MARRIED! YOU HEAR THAT NEIGHBOURS?! MY SEXY BROTHER IS GETTING MARRIED TO HIS SEXY BOYFRIEND! AND I'M HIS BEST MAN, BITCHES!"What could possibly go wrong...?
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 85





	1. Devil's Candy Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> this is my first time at using Ao3 so I'm getting use to the stuff on here. 
> 
> It is also my first attempt at a Klance story. I got this inspiration from 2011 film, Bridesmaids which is a hilarious comedy and i recommend you watch - this would help before you read this story, if you want.
> 
> This story is published on my Wattpad account: Apple_Crunch. As an amateur writer, i would like your votes, comments and shares of this story to help boost my confidence when its comes to writing. I take constructive criticism/feedback into account, so please advise me for any improvements in any of the chapters. 
> 
> Thank you so much and enjoy.

Keith's POV

During high school, I didn't have friends. Period.

I know, sad life isn't it?

I repeatedly reminded myself it was probably because of how people deceived me, typically whenever I was walking down those crowded hallways with a grim face, sullen eyes and inadvertently acting as a lone wolf.

In other words, I'm socially awkward meaning I can't hold a conversation, not even a teeny tiny one with a stranger for no longer than two seconds without me punching some retard's face.

Why does socialising have to be so hard?

Throughout the fantastical world of education, I discovered two things about myself:  
1.) I didn't give a complete fuck about how - I quote - "emo" I looked while having no intention of changing my taste of fashion.  
Besides, black and red do go really well together.

2.) I _did_ , however, give a fuck about how secretly (and betraying my goodwill numerous times) I peeked at the passing good-looking jocks wearing what I analysed, without any heterosexual judgement, should've been loose tops and sweats but their adopted puppy, bulging muscles refused confinement (me having a more embarrassing occurrence down south).

I vividly remember allowing my gayness to take over whenever I caught the perfect sight of hot guys and the jaw-dropping outlines of their huge package pushing against their sweatpants or tight skinny jeans. Now that I fantasied about during my wank sessions in bed.

I mean, COME ON! A gay, virgin-Mary loner like myself who's never been kissed. Never had his dick blown, let alone SUCKED someone's else pristine jolly rancher. Never experienced being tangled in the bedsheets with the strong smell of sex intoxicating the air so much I could choke to death and has NEVER been close securing a romantic relationship with a guy, like ever.

I've literally created a fucking universe of pure bad luck and lost chances in the world of sex.

Now that I think about it, shit! I really did miss out in my fluorescent teenage years BIG time.

But that was all in high school...

Now, I'm proud to say I find myself lazily slumped against a luxury silver, velvet headboard; puddles of salty sweat excessively soaking the lavender bedsheets beneath my slim body and my knuckles white as I viciously grip onto the fresh bedsheets with the blissful mix of arousal and raw excitement flowing through my body, sweetly tingling my toes and fingertips.

Twisting the thin fabric between my fingers, soft gasps and long moans rolled off my tongue harmonising pure ecstasy and horniness. Throat choking on air between elevating breaths; lungs burning on little oxygen and chest heaving excessively, I felt breathless from the pure pleasure.

I gasp, back arching slightly off the soaked, sticky bedsheets beneath.

"L-Lotor. Oh god! ~A-ah!"

Unconsciously, one hand released the small, creased section of lavender sheets from its unruly death-grip before swiftly diving under the duck-feather filled duvet and cruising through smooth locks of conditioned hair.

A deep, low hum emitted underneath the thick cover, vibrating pleasantly with breaths of hot air swirling lusciously around my pulsing cock.

"Right there! R-right ther~ooh!"

Throwing my head back, I unceremoniously let out more gasps and moans that echo throughout the dimly lit master bedroom. I cry aloud, his mouth hungrily eating me whole. "HOLY SHIT! Fu~ah!"

I pant and heave when I feel his long, wet tongue tickle the base of my cock and advance frustratingly slow up to the trembling tip in thick strides of wet tastebuds and precum, running over the small, flaring veins dancing around my length; porcelain teeth grazing the fragile skin of my aching cock. Peeking through half-closed eyelids, I mentally take note of the steady rise of the duvet between my legs as his hot mouth nearly slides off my entire cock, before the bump under the duvet flattens as he takes me whole again with one strong swallow. Momentarily, I close my watery eyes when a needy moan spews angelically between my bruised, swollen lips.

"L-Lotor," I say breathlessly "I-I'm close. So, so clo~ooh! Fu~ck!"

The civil strokes I fed through thin strands of soft hair immediately turned into something more aggressive and desperate. I took a good chunk of silver hair and knotted it in the tight grip of my formed fist as sweet pressure rapidly built down below.

"Shit. I'm gonna~ah! Cum. Gonna cum, daddy! S-so close.."

With one final deep thrust, my tip jabs the back of his bumpy, hot throat which is enough to send me overboard. A deep growl erupts violently into a long wail from my throat that fills every nook and cranny of the room. Gushes of hot cum eject from my reddened tip down into the awaiting throat that eagerly swallows every last sticky drop while I rest the back of my head against the headboard, panting heavily as I ride out the pleasure of release. Thick locks of black hair stick to the sheen layer of sweat on my forehead.

As the pressure gradually subsides, lots of steady movement jolt me awake. The tickle of smooth skin glides across my nude body. Hot, tainted breaths lovingly warm my torso and I let out a soft hum in bliss. Strong arms wrap around my sides as we adjust our position to face one another.

"Well, that was something," Lotor whispers softly into my ear, albeit a little out of breath.

My head gently rests against his toned chest and again I hum in approval, still exhausted from receiving a memorable blowjob.

He chuckles at my diminutive response; my red-tinted ears picking up the melodic vibrations deep within his throat as he continues to chuckle for a little longer, his broad shoulders shaking lightly.

"It was that good I made you out of breath?" I nod.

Another chuckle, smaller in volume and capacity, passes through his paper-thin lips. "I assumed you had good endurance?"

Letting out a small chuckle of my own, I raise my eyes to meet his bearing down into my violet-grey irises. Swirls of royal blue with the common white pigment surrounding the dreamy, rich colour in a bold, circular frame are all that stop me drifting away into awaiting slumber.

"Well, Mr Who-Assumes-He-Is-Right-About-Everything," I joke heartily "that endurance was specifically accustomed to running track-based, not getting laid-based. May I remind you, it was you who took my V-card."

"Oh, getting a little cheeky there I see. Naughty."

"I assumed that's how you liked it?"

Our small, heartfelt laughs mix together as our nude bodies cuddle closer together to feel more content and at ease, with a side order of extremely touchy contact of skin-touching-skin after an intense heat session of candy-licking indulgence.

Minutes pass over minutes, carrying a comfortable silence as our legs entwine like a sailor's rope and our breathing steadies out as another one-night stand is slowly succumbing to an end.

The night peacefully drifts away, and so does my attempt to keep the troubling thoughts in my head at bay.

_"Why did our love fail to meet heart-to-heart?"_  
_"Why did I stupidly believe in love at first sight?"_  
_"Why did I think we'd have enough time on our hands to stay together?"_  
_"Was it me that fucked up our relationship?"_  
_"Did I truly deserve his never-ending love and affection?"_  
_"Was it because of something I did that ultimately ended our relationship on a sour note?"_  
_"Did we ever LOVE each other?"_

"You know," a silky, British voice interrupts my deep submerge of overwhelming thoughts and insecurities "I picked up something importantly irrational when we were in a relationship."

I raise my head once more to look at Lotor. Confusion and curiosity twist my face into a small frown when I detect the undertone of frustration in his velvet voice.

With a light sigh, Lotor disconnects his grip over my waist and removes his arms away, jostling over to his side of the king-sized bed.

I didn't know if it was in my head or if the air conditioning unit automatically turned on, but I glumly acknowledged the embrace of warmth was fading away. Even the puffy duvet, it's supposed purpose to provide warmth and comfort was doing nothing to overcome the growing coldness and loneliness consuming me.

"Whenever you drown deep into thought, completely disregarding reality, you usually began to talk aloud unconsciously, spitting out your unnecessary conspiracies."

I frowned instinctively at said "unnecessary conspiracies".

"I presumed a grown adult like yourself would intentionally find talking aloud your... insecurities distracting for others present in your surrounding."

_What the FUCK?!_

"Are you joking?"

With a smug grin displayed across his pink lips, Lotor turns his full attention to my tense body as anger fills my insides like a malevolent wildfire.

"Keith. You and I both know that I've established a realistic and true analysis of your troubling mental state. I assumed you'd grow out of it, especially since you're male and try to get along with your life like any normal person."

I saw red.

"Well, you assumed fuck all with your head stuck far up your PLASTIC ASS!" I roar with intense anger and hatred towards this ASSHOLE.

Throwing the purple duvet off me that made me feel sick to the stomach, knowing who brought it with their own money, I effortlessly launch my body out of his bed and plant my feet onto his Eichholtz herringbone carpet.

Not that I give a shit about the stupid brand, IT'S FUCKING CARPET!

Picking up my discarded clothes I rambunctiously stripped off during the sexual heat off the floor, I began to clumsily throw and pull them on, not that I had the mindset and time to consider how stupid and funny I may have made myself doing so as I advance towards the oak bedroom door to escape from this hell.

"Did I get under your skin?" His voice calling out from behind my retreating form, trying to gain my attention.

_"Like FUCK he will."_

"Your too soft, you know?"

_"Don't let him get to you, Keith."_

"You need someone by your side,"

_"No, I don't."_

"You need someone,"

_"I'm capable on my own."_

"You need me, Keith,"

_"I will never NEED you."_

"You need me,"

_"NO! No, I don't."_

Finally, I was faced with the looming double door. I instinctively took ahold of the gold handle that shined metallically in the low light. "Was I never good enough?"

Time froze.

My breath hitched in my throat and my body inhabited a mannequin composure, my shoulders hunched and stiff. Gripping onto the door handle, I knew I was going to get a powerful smell of rich copper staining my pale skin. I felt my eyes widen at the intensity spoken loud and clear in his voice.

"Ever since we broke up, that question has been annoyingly whirling around my head like a bee buzzing by my ear."

The rustle of fabric being pulled aside and the very faint thud of feet hitting the matted carpet made me grip the handle a little tighter and choke slightly on spit forming at the back of my parched throat. The sound of light footsteps advancing from behind made my eyes widen a little more.

"I know I wasn't around as much as you wanted," his voice cutting the thick silence like a hot, sharp knife, "but I always wanted to tell you this from the bottom of my heart."

Muscular arms wrap graciously around my effeminate waist. I choke a gasp and feel my clutch tighten on the handle. _NO...._ Minuscule tears form in the corner of my sight, his fingers stealthily lifting the hem of my shirt trailing circular motions over my petite hips, the soft padding on his fingertips delicately pressing into my fragile skin. _NO...._ I squeeze my eyes shut and yelp when he pinches the sensitive skin directly over the hip bone. Puffs of his hot breath cascade over my collarbone peaking through the V-neck collar.

_PLEASE.....NO....._

I could feel the way his lips curl spitefully into a grin against my neck at the small sounds squeaking out of my quivering lips, his hands skillfully travelling up to my stomach. The cold touch made me unwillingly shiver.  
Leaning into my ringing ears, he caught my soft earlobe and sucked carefully between pearl-white teeth, leaving small blemishes in the fatty tissue.

In a hushed, yet leering voice, "You make the most adorable sounds."

"NO!"

In a flash, I sharply turn around and press my shaking hands onto his toned chest. With all my might, I shove the disgusting person away from me.

Sending Lotor tumbling backwards, I turn back around and with tears trickling down my cheeks, I literally rip open the oak door. Without hesitation, I hurriedly walk out of the room and take two steps at a time down the polished marble staircase, panting as fear famish my thoughts.

Once downstairs, I quickly walk over to grab ahold of my favourite biker jacket hung upon the antique coat hanger, which stood to the left of the designer hardwood front door.

"Not even going to say goodbye?" teased Lotor as I exited, taking long strides to quicken my pace and move further from the millionaire's riverside mansion.

"Don't look back," mentally ordering myself, the metres between myself and the gate shortening "Don't fucking look back."

I don't look back.

I don't look back when I climb the metal-barred gate.

I don't look back as I stride the sidewalk.

I don't look back when I hop onto my black Harley Sportster.

I don't look back as I drive away into the silent depth of the night.

Most importantly, I never want to look back. Ever again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 1.
> 
> hope you liked it.
> 
> i haven't wrote any stories in over a year and it wasn't until recently, i found the motivation to begin writing once again. Thank you for your views as it helps boost my really low confidence.


	2. Fuck Yoga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't look back," mentally ordering myself, the metres between myself and the gate shortening "Don't fucking look back."
> 
> I don't look back.
> 
> I don't look back when I climb the metal-barred gate.
> 
> I don't look back as I stride the sidewalk.
> 
> I don't look back when I hop onto my black Harley Sportster.
> 
> I don't look back as I drive away into the silent depth of the night.
> 
> I never looked back.
> 
> Most importantly, I never want to look back. Ever again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 has officially arrived!
> 
> With a bag of salted popcorn and cheesy dormitories with salsa dip, all washed with mug after mug after mug of coffee, I managed to get this chapter finished. I'm so tired I'm drooling over my laptop (eww) - imma head to bed and get at least 10 hours of sleep.
> 
> Enjoy

No-one's POV

True love at first sight.  
First kiss.

If anyone brave enough told Keith Kogane this common trope, he would've blatantly laughed in their face commenting its ridiculousness or scoff at such stupidity; simply not finding the time to believe in such apparent magical, non-existent conspiracy while trying to pave his way through the real world of 9-to-5 jobs and bills and bills and more bills after graduating from college with an Arts Degree in painting.

But the moment his eyes landed on Lotor, he couldn't - as much as he didn't want to - avert his sight from such obvious beauty. The muscularity sculptured his body in the most perfect proportions; the fierce fire burning through gorgeous eyes and unforgettably, his charisma coating his voice like ice was just the sort of guy Keith yearned for.

And boy, was his strings tied tight in the love department.

Keith Kogane: the emo, the lone wolf, the ticking time-bomb had fallen mullet over heels for Lotor Quint.

But sadly in truth, it was one choice to love another that left him so heartbroken and fractured at the end. A three-year-long relationship gave poor Keith enough time to establish firm trust in Lotor, no matter the distance Lotor's work forced between them. Those blissful nights of warm cuddles and passionate kisses Keith loved sourly became lonely and cold; the feeling of Lotor's arms wrapped protectively around his waist pulling him to his chest over his strong beating heart - Keith slowly forgot.

The love once shared faded into hopeless attempts to reignite the flame, to start over.

Gift exchanges and compliments drastically changed to growing hate and anger-filled arguments. During each row, Keith uncontrollably screamed his pent up anger and frustration towards his ex-boyfriend, blinding his sight and spray foul language with bitter biting his words. In the end, Lotor would always comment on Keith's childish behaviour and how being together had apparently ruined the luxurious life he worked so hard for.

So Keith ultimately blamed himself for acting out of hand, practically showering Lotor with tearful apologises and agreeing with his rude, often spiteful remarks about his mental wellbeing.

It destroyed him.

Even more so when Keith stumbled upon him making out with a (hot) girl on the desk in his office after Keith texted him to remind Lotor he was coming to pick him up from a long day's worth of work. He planned on taking him out that very same evening.

The break-up wasn't very long after his discovery of Lotor's cheating, literally dumping him on the spot even-though Lotor's dick was still inside the poor girl who, bless her soul when reliving this memory, had no clue Lotor was taken and flushed in pure mortification of not only being caught having sexual penetration in a working environment, but by Lotor's secret boyfriend.

No matter how much Keith loathed Lotor for his arrogance and betrayal of established trust he practically poured out with open arms and a smile on his face, he couldn't help but feel empty as he had no significant lover to share his leftover love with, nor have the willpower to search for the perfect guy.

Admittingly starting the frequent one-night stands...

"Maybe you should try online dating?"

A dry laugh shot out from Keith's lips before a smirk filtered his lips displaying obvious disbelief at such a stupid question, at least he believed. Acxa pulled her face into a frown at his reaction, repositioning her stance into a warrior II pose; Keith following suit.

"I'm serious Keith," she stated, trying to catch his attention, "its time you found someone worth your time and heart."

"And get my ass catfished? I think I'll pass." Why waste time searching for your soulmate on a screen and pressing keys to type some desperate invitation to get some stranger to cuddle in bed with you with a high chance that profile pic is fake?

To all Earthlings and extraterrestrials far in space (and imprisoned somewhere in Area 51), Keith Akira Kogane ain't got time for that.

"I'm just pointing out the best option for you. Given your lack of socialising skills and emo appearance, you're giving off vibes to people that make them wanna stay away from you. In other words, you're a ticking tomb or frankly, a caged wild animal; maybe even both."

Keith responded with a light shrug and a faint hum of approval.

"By communicating online," Acxa continued "you'll have more of a chance to speak to someone without freezing up or kicking their balls into their stomach to make them shut up. In my opinion, its a win-win situation and most importantly, it will be - without a doubt - beneficial for your part as you and I both know you don't do well with one-to-one physical interactions with new people that include talking."

Keith couldn't help but secretly agree with her accurate observations of his personality circumstances in advisement to improve his future chances to meet and tie knots with his future husband.

Despite reality, he felt like there was something deep within him holding against moving on from Lotor and no matter the countless times of staying overnight in bed with his ex-boyfriend, Keith cannot put a slim finger on this unmoving and unclear feeling. In conclusion, he believed that's why he never fully left his filthy rich ex, directly zoning onto this churn in his heart in belief it was the raging hope that there was still a chance at, no matter how small or insignificant, becoming intimate with Lotor once more. "I appreciate your word of advice and the underlying concern Acxa, but I don't feel like moving onto the next person yet. Honestly, I still can't seem to leave Lotor with or without my knowledge of the things he has done to me previously in the past."

Acxa could only sigh in frustration, fed up with her friend's stubbornness. She knew the one-night stands with Lotor were limiting Keith's chance and interest of finding everlasting love if he was hoard to his arrogant ex's side. Keith was in denial and given his character, Acxa could only stand by and watch him dig a deeper hole to avoid the ultimate truth of his crumbled relationship with Lotor.

"As an honest friend, I find it hard to pick at what's making you wanna stay with Lotor. Care to enlighten on this?" Lowering her arms to her side and planting her legs together, palms facing outward to mimic a perfect mountain pose.

Struck by her question, Keith thought long and hard for an answer that wasn't excusable. To his irritation, nothing came to mind. "I-I.. well.."

_Come on brain! THINK OF SOMETHING!_

"Well...?" Rolled off Acxa's tongue, purposely tilting her head to put Keith under pressure.

_THINK! THINK THINK THINK! FUCKING THINK!_

"I-I don't know, okay?!" Keith blared throwing his arms in outrage the pressure finally getting to him, "I don't know. I don't know why I keep hanging around him. I don't know why I want to keep seeing him; stay at his house; sleep in bed with him; letting him take me whole."

Acxa grimaced. "Okay, I don't mind your rambling about your failed relationship or any other drama," pointing a finger to Keith's toned chest "but keep sex details to yourself."

Tucking a loose strand of indigo hair behind a pierced ear, Acxa gracefully slumped down into a fire log pose onto her purple yoga mat. The rhythmic rustle of pine cone trees swaying in the gentle breeze passing by calmed Acxa's mind and eased her body to relax.

"I'll keep that in mind." Keith assured following Acxa's change of pose, crossing his legs over another comfortably on his red, yet worn mat.

Closing her eyes and slowly inhaling through her nose before expelling a breath of fresh air, Acxa took in the calm silence as an opportunity to speak, "Anyway, I still don't think-"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD'S BLINDING ASS DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?!" - instead being interrupted by a cry of fury bellowing out of the middle-aged yoga instructor's mouth.

Both friends snapped open their eyes, staring directly over to the trembling yoga class situated on a large green span of freshly cut grass.

Currently the instructor spastically waved his hands through thin air, shouting boisterously at the top of his lungs towards a crowd of terrified faces looking like they would've overfilled their diapers from pure fright.

In sync, Keith and Acxa inhaled a sharp intake of breath.

"Who's it this time?" Acxa asked, switching her gaze from the class to Keith. Stretching his neck, Keith tried making out which unfortunate soul was having hell rained upon them.

A chubby girl, with silky blonde hair pulled high into a tight ponytail, sweating buckets - no waterfalls - and profoundly blowing up flushed cheeks by huffing and puffing desperate intakes of refreshing air looked scared shitless at Iverson's finger pointing rudely in her direction.

"Looks like its the new girl. What's her name?"

"I don't remember," but quickly Acxa's face brightened up like a bulb "actually, I think it began with the letter 's'? Sheila? Sophie? Samantha?"

"FUCKING HELL SARAH!"

"Sarah." Sang Acxa and Keith.

"YOU'VE DONE IT WRONG AGAIN!"

"Poor girl," cooed Acxa "beginners always shit a brick as soon as they fuck up a pose."

"EVERY-TIME! EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. TIME!"

"Jesus, does Iverson have to scream the heavens down onto Earth?" Acxa scoffed turning her gaze back to the class, "It's just yoga."

Keith hummed in agreement. "Iverson is a fucking eagle, I swear to God. No one will ever escape his hellbent clutches."

Acxa smirked. "We have."

"No shit Sherlock." Keith smirked back breathing a hearty laugh, a rare playful glint in his violet pupils.

"OI!"

Flinching at the sudden change of direction Iverson's voice projected, the two friends looked over to unfortunately catch Iverson's line of sight as said person was sprinting over to them, hairy nostrils flaring wide and thick eyebrows furrowed looking like two bridge ends finally meeting in the middle.

"Shit! The eagle has spotted us!" Keith cursed, jumping to his feet in a swift motion; Acxa smoothly rolling backwards off her mat. "I repeat the eagle has spotted us!"

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"Hurry! Hurry!" The two chanted, rolling their mats up then unceremoniously shoving them under an arm. Iverson began ascending up a set of concrete stairs, jumping two steps at a time shouting, "ITS THEM TWO BASTARDS AGAIN!"

"Good observation!" Acxa yelled back beaming a smile as she and Keith began running towards the park exit.

Keith laughed aloud, heart forcefully pumping blood. "Sorry Popeye, I'm on a budget!"

Steam comically poured from Iverson's ears. Shaking a fist in rage Iverson roared, "I'LL GET YOU BOTH SOON! AND YOUR MONEY! IF ITS THE LAST THING I'L EVER DO! FUCKING FREELOADERS!"

 _'We'll see about that'_ Keith smugly thought.

Cars drove noisily on the main road past the park's entrance; Keith and Acxa stumbling out breathing soft laughs and pulling each other into a shoulder hug.

"Now that we've escaped from Goliath," joked Acxa "wanna go somewhere else?"

Keith separated when he felt his phone vibrate in his side pocket. Opening his iPhone 6, a notification popped up signalising a message.

From Shiro:  
_Hey buddy, just received news from work that the meeting with GalraTech was cancelled so I've got the day off 🥳. Was wondering if you wanna meet up at Café of Lions?_

Groaning in embarrassment at the emoji, Keith immediately sent a reply accepting the sudden but warm invite. Sliding his phone securely into the same pocket, Keith turned to Acxa with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry Acxa but I've just had a shift in today's schedule."

Acxa lightly waved her hand, a small smile growing on her face. "Don't worry about it. It's nice to see you hang around with your "brother"."

Keith scrunched his face. "Wait, how did you know he just text me?"

"Who else do you want to spend time with? I can bet money it's not your fellow work colleagues." Keith grimaced.

"Your right. We'll have to arrange something else later on this week."

Inhaling deeply, Acxa softly exhaled. "Have fun then. My shift is about to start anyway," looking at her watch "I better go see what's up with the fuzz. God knows what fucking idiots have been arrested or today's fresh list of stupid charges."

"See you, Acxa. Have fun." Keith said walking away.

In the opposite direction, Acxa spun around and saluted monotonously before continuing her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 should arrive soon. 
> 
> Remember to comment and share, thanks.


	3. Caffeine is the Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your right. We'll have to arrange something else later on this week."
> 
> Inhaling deeply, Acxa softly exhaled. "Have fun then. My shift is about to start anyway," looking at her watch "I better go see what's up with the fuzz. God knows what fucking idiots have been arrested or today's fresh list of stupid charges."
> 
> "See you, Acxa. Have fun." Keith said walking away.
> 
> In the opposite direction, Acxa spun around and saluted monotonously before continuing her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day brings another chapter - one that was copied and pasted onto here as it was already written on Wattpad. But still, a little keypad jabbing and thumbs cramping, we're looking good. 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one.
> 
> Enjoy!

_No-One's POV_

An ear-splitting _DING-A-LING!_ rang through the stylish building.

The antique brass bell 's cheery sound vibrating off grey slabbed walls signalling staff the arrival or departure of a fellow customer. Heads turn towards the newly installed Lincoln glass door, nosily peeking at Keith who stepped afoot inside, secretly a nervous wreck but masking it with a stoic expression.

Practice makes perfect.

Even with previous visits and practically memorising the café's layout from the old cracks in the floorboards to the blinding shine of the bulbs, new faces always unnerve Keith to the point he would instinctually switch to his famous alter ego: "Mr I'msoemo".

What part of brain did Shiro use to come up with _that_ stupid name?

Speaking of Shiro, it took less than two seconds for Keith to spot a familiar face. Except, it was a familiar tuff of white peeking out the small gap of a grey hoodie pulled shut over their head and what Keith would so good-humouredly describe as "hulk arms", one flesh; the other metal, crossed over their muscular chest. Doing a double take, Keith subdued the urge to walk out and never return.

Casually making his way over to the vacant seat, Keith would truthfully admit he tried his best to ignore the sets of eyes glancing at him as he passed occupied tables, even stepping away from an outstretched arm connected to a chubby-cheeked baby as it attempted to clutch his hand but ultimately failing; their t-rex arms short of reach, despite accommodating a cream coloured highchair.

"Halt." A fleshy hand froze mid air, abruptly pausing Keith.

Hand grasping the metal head of the Palermo chair and ready to pull it away to create space between the oak table to sit down, Keith stared unamused at the levitated hand, stern eyes trailing past the elbow before meeting the hooded face with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Who dares to trespass on my land? Speak." Shiro spoke, voice muffled by the cotton fabric pulled over his lips.

Keith's eyebrow rose higher. "Are you for real Shiro?"

"Shiro? Ha, I do not recognise that name," laughed the muffled voice "who is this Shiro you speak of?"

A glass jar housing a few purple juniberry flowers, sitting innocently in the middle of the polished table caught Keith's attention.

With an evil smirk, he quickly picked up the jar, pulled out the flowers and said, "Speak to this" before dumping the slightly dirty water over Shiro's crotch.

The fake laughing flipped to a high-pitched shriek. "Argh! What the...?!"

The harsh sensation of icy water hitting skin shocked Shiro. Keith chuckled, smugly watching his roommate swat tissue at the damp area; the water mercilessly soaking through his black sweatpants.

Swiftly pulling the rest of the hoodie off his head, the loose fabric crumpling onto his broad shoulders, Shiro looked up from his wet crotch to Keith's smug grin.

"Why did you do that?!"

Keith finally sat down and simply opened a drinks menu. "Because you deserved it. Here," handing Shiro the tiny bouquet of flowers "to finally blowing a load in public."

Giggles travelled through the air. To Shiro's horror, a handful of lucky people were honoured box seats to their comical interaction and were now desperately trying not to stare at Shiro's well-earned embarrassing crotch stain; generously suppressing their laughter through clenched teeth or covering their smirks with a menu, some even turning away to steer clear of Shiro's horrified face.

Burning red, Shiro slumped back down. "I'm gonna get you back for this." A touch of spite tinting his tone. He upright the jar and set it back to its original spot before carefully enticing the plant's thin stems through the open lid.

Keith glanced at him then returned to the inked paper held close to his face. "Good luck with that."

Picking up his own drinks menu, Shiro surveyed the delectable variety of drinks; once or twice reading over the highlighted selection of popular recommendations. A frustrated groan arose from across the table.

"What's up?" Shiro asked without looking up.

Keith whined, flattening the menu upon the table on full display. "I can't seem to choose between the latest boba flavours: mocha or strawberry milk tea."

Shiro faintly snickered. "Good luck with that." In an instant, Keith glared at his close friend who purposely avoided eye-contact.

"Bitch."

"Language, 生のお願いだから(Kami no tame ni)!"  
  
  
  
  
  


***TIME LAPSE***  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Ahhhh! That was some good hot chocolate." Shiro patted his stomach, a content smile brightening his face.

Keith, on the other hand, exhibited a sour pout. His unique eyes ploughed into the concrete while the two brotherly-like friends walked down the town's sidewalk in a comfortable silence.

"Hey, what's wrong Sour Patch?"

Keith's shoulders dropped. "I wanted the strawberry one."

"So the coin landed on heads," Shiro monotonously reminded him, "we can come back later in the week. You'll be able to order the other one then."

Keith's pout lightened up. "True, besides I'll probably meet up with Acxa if you're too busy with work and Adam. Hopefully they won't have changed the choice of boba teas by then."

Shiro smiled reassuringly. "I doubt they will. Allura and Coran know we're two of their favourite customers, so even if they did change the drinks selection maybe they can whip up a strawberry milk tea exclusively for you. Y'know, like some sort of special offer............ Keith?"

Expecting his friend to have just wandered off and got lost in his trail of thoughts, Shiro was slightly taken aback when he found himself standing alone. "Keith?"

Turning around, Shiro quickly caught sight of the 24 year old lagging behind - only to realise that he had completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and staring off in a completely different direction.

"Keith?" Shiro called again. 

Walking back, he softly asked, "Buddy? Whatcha looking...." his voice quickly fading when his line of sight followed Keith's. "Oh."

Cemented into the ground and collecting piles of dust, a dirty red-bricked building, with a fresh coat of messy graffiti staining the mouldy wooden window barricades, sat still and lifeless. Ugly, overgrown weeds sprouted through narrow gaps in the concrete slabs, spiralling upwards along the wooded frames of the window exterior. The once pristine, bright sign now outlined with a thick layer of sickly green grime with vicious cracks breaking apart the cheap plastic; a few broken wires sticking out between the blurred purple font.  
  
  


_Marmora Art Gallery & Studio _  
  
  


Swallowing a small lump of saliva, Shiro collected himself both physically and mentally, drawing his attention to Keith who was worryingly quiet. "Keith, I am so sorry. The studio-"

"I-Its fine Shiro," he cuts in "and before you ask, I'm fine as well." With a fake smile he took a few steps forward, an imaginary raincloud thundering above his head. Shiro, being the caring friend he is, wasn't going to let him go that easily. 

"Keith. Hey, wait a minute." Placing a hand gingerly on his shoulder, he brought the two of them to another standstill and like Keith would always do out of instinct, avoided Shiro's soft stare, looking down with a half-hearted frown; minuscule lines wrinkled into his forehead. Having said this, Shiro captured the silence as the perfect opportunity to continue talking.

"You and I can agree it was not, I repeat _not_ your fault you lost the art studio. I sincerely apologise that we came back into this area. I swear it _never_ came to mind and its my fault your feeling the way you are right now. I'm so sorry."

Sighing lightly, Keith cast his gaze to align with Shiro. "I know it's not my fault as much as I keep reminding myself that day-in, day-out. You have a lot going on, so I'm not surprised you totally forgot the studio was within this area, heck even _I_ forgot."

Shiro patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion, "They were good paintings though."

Nodding his head, Keith replies with a short "Thanks Shiro", the two telepathically agreeing to walk away.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Japanese > English
> 
> 生のお願いだから(Kami no tame ni)! - for god's sake!
> 
> Let me know if there are any mistakes in the translations used. As a writer, I appreciate constructive criticism/feedback to improve my work.
> 
> thank you for the kudos, comments and shares.


	4. EnGAYgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sighing lightly, Keith cast his gaze to align with Shiro. "I know it's not my fault as much as I keep reminding myself that day-in, day-out. You have a lot going on, so I'm not surprised you totally forgot the studio was within this area, heck even I forgot."
> 
> Shiro patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion, "They were good paintings though."
> 
> Nodding his head, Keith replies with a short "Thanks Shiro", the two telepathically agreeing to walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 making its grand entrance. I've made a few adjustments with this copy in comparison with the Wattpad one, but its still like 97% same. 
> 
> Thank-you for the views and kudos; it has really boosted my confidence in writing and i can't thank-you enough. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_No-one's POV_

Boredom beaming off his face, "That'll be $23.50 sir." Keith said leaning away from the debilitated till.

His fifth customer, an elderly yet sprightly overweight man whom he had served a couple of times on previous day shifts, was clearly trying his best to pick pennies out his leather wallet with his crinkled fingers that Keith picked up on close inspection, were daintily trembling. He had successfully drawn out two $10 notes and laid them out on the counter but....

Coin after coin slipped out of his feeble pinch. The gentleman would lick his lips whenever a shiny penny fell back into the slit and each time, Keith's patience was wearing thinner, especially since this had been repeating for the last.  
Five.  
 _Fucking_.  
Minutes.

Aside from being socially awkward, Keith - for as long as he can remember - has always struggled controlling his emotions. Hell, the word 'empathy' sounding like foreign language in his ears. 

Forcing a smile, "How about if you flip your wallet out on to the counter? It'll be much easier to get the extra change out." Keith logically considered. The old man chuckled heartily and shook his head, dismissing his advise.

"I may be old, but I can still do the simple things you young folks can. I'll get these damn pennies out in a chuff.

"Please, take your time." _For fuck's sake, hurry up old man!_

Keith's left eye twitched as another coin tumbled back into the wallet. The gentlemen grazed his pink tongue over his lips once more. Silently drawing in a breath, Keith rolled Shiro's easing words around his head in a poor attempt to calm the growing annoyance.

 _Patience yields focus -_ another nickel dropped;

 _Patience yields focus_ \- another lick of the lips;

 _Patience yields focus_ \- a dime plopped back;

 _Patience yields focus_ \- a slow lick of the lips;

Keith snaps. "THAT'S IT!"

Launching the top half of his body over the countertop, he snatches the wallet out of the man's very loose grip in a flash. "GIVE ME THE STUPID WALLET! I'LL DO IT MYSELF!"

At first, the elderly man stared blankly at his hand, the leather wallet nowhere in sight. With brainpower setting in, he looked up at Keith who was busy strangling his wallet and dumping coins into an open palm with a heavy glower slopping down his brow.

A gleaming smile emerged on the man's face, steadily pushing the corners of his lips to his cheeks. "Thank you so much, young man. If it weren't for your help, we'd probably be standing here all day." The old man guffaws. A meaty hand settled on the arch of his firm beer gut. His gleeful laughs causing it to bounce up and down.

A curling receipt jittered out of the till. Meanwhile, Keith settled for a less cheerful demeanour, the incredulity glower leaving momentarily as he rolled his eyes before returning even more darker.

Slamming the damaged till shut and ripping away the receipt, Keith shoved the slightly crinkled paper into the shopping bag; hastily handing back the man's leather wallet. "Your wallet. Have a nice day."

Turning away, Keith looked up. Strips of yellow wallpaper folded around the cheap black plastic case of the lopsided digital clock. Multi-sized dry leaks discolouring the prime colour of the obsolete wallpaper.  
13:15pm.  
"Excuse me, young man?" _Oh_ _God, what now?_

Keith bit his tongue deeply, at the same turning back around and further portraying his irritation with crossed arms. "I forgot to ask," the oblivious man spoke "could I buy a Powerball lottery ticket? For this week's jackpot."

Inwardly groaning, Keith forced a small smile and stepped in front of the lottery ticket holder; another piece of junk with large cracks sealed poorly by overlapping layers of old and new strips of sellotape.

What _else_ was old, broken and smelt like piss in this rundown 24/7 corner shop?

With a cheeky grin the old man beamed, "I'm feeling lucky tonight."

_'You and every other living person in the United States holding the same piece of paper.'_

Catching his customer opening his wallet for a second time, Keith abruptly stopped him by handing him the baby pink ticket. "Don't worry about paying."

"Such a generous boy," he smiled, taking ahold of the ticket "I'm gonna find a really good place to hide this. Don't want my wife knowing I spent my retirement money on this."

Keith frowned, puzzled by the his words. "Why?"

If his friends had advised him to speak to people well worth his time then talking to this old guy shouldn't be a problem, right?

The elderly gentleman sighed. "My lovely wife, Dolores, though I tend to call her 'Dolly', she's not into this sort of thing," gesturing to the ticket "says I've 'wasted money and futile luck on these stupid things'."

 _'She's not wrong'_ Keith thought.

"Between you and me," he adds, "we can agree she won't be saying _that_ when I bring home a check of a million dollars. With that glorious money, we'll be able to afford ourselves a nice mansion hidden away in the hills, hopefully in the next given years."

Keith shrugged. "That's if you ain't dead."

The man visibly flinched, taken aback. "Pardon?" The grocery bag nearly falling out of his grip.

Ignoring his question Keith continued to speak in a dull tone. "No offence but you certainly like your on your way out - you _and_ this fucking pile of shit," gesturing to the trashy shop "your wife - her name's Dolores, correct?"

The man nodded; still shocked to utter a word. "They say that name, though related to the Virgin Mary, was once perceived in the height of exotic sensuality,"

Leaning against the countertop, Keith cupped a slender hand to the right side of his face. "Between you and me," he whispers "don't be alarmed if you make it to Heaven and your prized package isn't attached to you during your grand entrance."

The elderly man's pupils blew inhumanly wide. Vowels spluttered out of cracked lips; the poor man's brain short circuiting. "I-I....I."

"People deal with the loss of losing someone close differently, you know. Your dick may be the only thing your wife doesn't cremate. Memories worth saving, am I right?" Further highlighting this with a few blow-jobbing gestures.

The old man's jaw dropped open and pigment drained from his face.  
His brain now forever fried.

"Okay, I think that's enough chitchatting for today."A new voice belonging to Keith's boss, Varkon - fat bastard ( **A/N: Keith's words, not mine** ) cutted in.

Each resting a rough hand on the old man's shoulders, he began pushing lightly with his palms directing the mentally-scarred man away from Keith to the shop's sliding doors.

"Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Ozar."

Once the old ma- _Ozar_ had left, Varkon immediately turned to Keith with a distinct scowl.

_Oh shit._

_"_ What the _actual_ FUCK were you THINKING?!" He spat through clenched teeth. "Do you know how bad that makes _me_ look, Keith? Me?! What about my fucking shop?!"

Keith looked away unconcerned. "It's not my fault he didn't take it lightly. I was just joking around."

Varkon scoffed loudly. "Just joking around?" he repeats while rubbing his temples "I'm pretty sure telling someone, as gullible as Ozar, that their dick getting chopped off isn't as mentally-scarring as it fucking sounds to be."

Taking no notice whatsoever, Keith started to walk away from his working position instead heading towards the shop's disabled (and only) bathroom.

"Don't ignore me!" Varkon exclaimed, running quickly in front of Keith.

Jamming a fat finger into Keith's chest, he leans in snarling, "Now you listen here, brat. My shop is already on the line of bankruptcy and I don't need any other members of staff adding unnecessary pressure onto my shoulders, especially _you_. If you continue acting like _that_ towards customers, I will not hesitate kicking your ass out the fucking door. Remember, I only gave you this job because of Shiro - nothing else."

With hurtful words spoken, Varkon strolled away with a sadistic smirk; leaving Keith alone with an unsettling stir in his stomach....  
  
  


***TIME LAPSE***  
  


3 new iMessages  
From Shiro (15:30): Hey buddy 🤩! How's work been? Hope everything went okay and there hasn't been a burglary. Speak to you soon xxxx.

From Shiro (15:39): Remember to bring home some popcorn - toffee if there's any in-store. We're watching DIRTY DANCING TONIGHT! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍.

From Shiro (15:51): 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍.

From Shiro (15:54): accidentally pressed sent hold on - 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍.

To Shiro (15:56): Are you done?

From Shiro (15:59): 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😭😍😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭.

To Shiro (16:03): why did you change emojis?

From Shiro (16:05): because my finger hurts.

From Shiro (16:05): now my left hand hurts.

To Shiro (16:08): serves you right for blowing up my phone.

From Shiro (16:10): wait, I can use my other hand. Totally forgot I had a prosthetic.

To Shiro (16:10): for the love of God don't.

From Shiro (16:13): 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍.  
  
  


_This contact is now removed._   
  
  
  


_***TIME LAPSE***_   
  
  
  


The soft _KER-CHUNK_ of spring-locked brass unlocking echoes in the dim hallway of Keith and Shiro's shared apartment.

Pushing open the white front door Keith trudged in with his shoulders slouched and a prompt frown shaping his pink lips. With one hand occupied with a small grocery bag, he fiddled with the keys stuck in the lock.

Eventually, with an annoyed huff, the keys were freed and Keith carelessly slammed the door shut.

"Is that you Keith?"

Keith rolled his eyes to the back of his head. "No, it's Tom Hollland dressed up as your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Of course it's me!" He threw back.

Kicking his beloved bicker boots into the collection of unorganised footwear he made his way to the more brightly lit living room. But the moment his eyes landed on Shiro, his hands pocketed in his oversized purple sweater, Keith knew something was up.

Now, Keith had seen _aaaallllllll_ the stupid and overbearing smiles Shiro displays over the past 8 years of their friendship. But this; _this_ cringe-worthy, teeth-all-showing and very very close to a Glasgow smile had topped the rest. Silence washed through the apartment in tense waves, at least Keith thought because Shiro didn't look any different even when the air grew more dense.

"What's with that?" Keith pointed out.

"With what?" Was it Keith or did his smile inch a little wider?

A finger pointed at Shiro's face. "That. What's with _that_ smile?"

He waved Keith off with his unsheathed metal hand. "Oh it's nothing. Just glad you could make it."

"I live here," Keith deadpans "We could literally watch the film any time."

"True, true. Anyway got the good stuff?"

Though hesitate from suspicion (and a little creeped out), the young 24 year old stepped towards the nearest side of the Bernard coffee table.

Taking another glance at Shiro, he plopped down the grocery bag onto the table and shoved his hand inside.

"You said you wanted toffee?" Shiro kept smiling.

"Yep," popping the 'p'.

 _'What the fuck?'_ Keith thought, weirded out by Shiro's behaviour. "Are you drunk?" It maybe possible....

"Nope," again popping the 'p'. Okay, it's a big MAYBE.

"Oh before you pass me my popcorn, could you just check my left hand. I think I pulled something in my wrist." Shiro requested, sassily pulling out said hand.

Sighing, Keith quickly glanced at Shiro's hand without a single care before quickly looking away, his focus returning to unpacking the sweet treats.

"It looks fine to me- wait......"

Slowly turning his head, Keith's eyes were drawn to something small, something expensive, something very

Very

Very sparkly.

And that something was secured to Shiro's fourth finger. Keith's jaw dropped.  
  


_No_   
  


"Is that.......?" His neck cracked as he snapped his gaze to Shiro, who still wore the same smile Keith saw when entered their apartment.  
  


_Fucking_

  
Shiro shrugged sheepishly. "Pretty, isn't it?"  
  


_Way!_   
  


"Pretty?" Keith squawked. "Pretty?!"

"I was surprised too. Loved the way Adam got all nervous. Loved the way he got down on one knee. Loved it even more when he asked me to be his-"

"That's a fucking ENGAGEMENT RING!" Keith exploded, mind kicking in, "YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED?!" 

"I know right!" No longer containing his joy, Shiro jumped up from the couch; Keith quickly but taking caution took ahold of Shiro's hand.

The rich sparkle of organic diamonds expertly embedded into both sides of a silvery slim shank created the perfect exterior for the centre stone: a gorgeous, chunky diamond completing the most perfect engagement ring.

It was the craftsman of God's hands - making it impossible for Keith to avert his eyes, heck even blink. Not that he wanted too

Letting go of his (clearly unharmed) hand, Keith looked up. "Why the fuck did you not tell me sooner?!"

Shiro let out a small laugh from his friend's flabbergasted tone. This was one of the funniest and memorable Keith moments.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well this is a _massive_ surprise." Holy shit, Shiro is getting married.

"I'm still in shock from the propo-"

_Shiro._

_Getting married._

"...people were clapping and appla-...."

_Marriage._

_Shiro......._

"....Keith? Kei-...."

_....Married........._   
  


_.................Gone................._

"Keith!"

A rough shake of the shoulders snapped Keith out of his trail of thoughts. Blinking in a mix of surprise and confusion, he acknowledged the slight concerned expression on Shiro's face.

Also, why did his eyes feeling like they were burning?

Pulling a hand direct to his face, it was no surprise Keith was taken aback when his fingertips touched wet cheeks.

Due to the rarity of Keith crying, Shiro stood shocked and concerned. If something made Keith Kogane cry, then it must've been without a doubt something serious.

Dark grey irises pierced into shimmering violet. "You're crying a river. What's wrong? Did I say something bad?"

Keith shook his head, eyes looking down. This concerned him more. "Then what's wrong?" He asked voice so gentle it made Keith cry more.

It felt like he was an injured animal laying wet and cold on the pavement and like an angel descending from heaven, Shiro had come to his aid, hushing in a tone of voice soft and caring.

"Keith?"

Salty tears cascading down his flushed cheeks like a river escaping a dam, Keith connected his sight with Shiro.

Shiro swore he felt his aching heart flip as Keith lit up with a glowing smile.

"You son of a bitch, YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!" Keith cried joyously, pulling his close friend into a tight hug.

Decoding the meaning behind Keith's tears, Shiro blinked before the shock filling his body washed away; happiness blooming as a beautiful rose.

"Language."

Keith breathes a shaky laugh, his words muffled as his lips were pressed against two rocks. "Like I care right now."

Heartily chucking, Shiro places his prosthetic hand atop his younger "brother's" head and ruffled the black, slightly greasy bags of hair. 

"So, do you want to be my Best Man?" A wordless reply of a nod rubbing against his broad chest was the simple answer Shiro needed.

Another shaky laugh escapes Keith's squashed lips before he pulls away; eyes cloudy and cheeks wet, he hollers, "MY BROTHER IS GETTING MARRIED! YOU HEAR THAT NEIGHBOURS?! MY SEXY BROTHER IS GETTING MARRIED TO HIS SEXY BOYFRIEND! AND I'M HIS BEST MAN, BITCHES!"

What could possibly go wrong now?......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 4.
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed it. I've got a few things going on over the next couple days so I probably won't be publishing a new chapter just yet; i'll try and find some time to do editing though.
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy the rest of your day.


	5. Mierda! He's H.O.T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little delay on the update but its a good one. its 03:33 am but who cares. This update is needed now.
> 
> Enjoy chapter 5 folks!

_Keith's POV_

I don't think- no, I _know_ I didn't get any sleep at all last night.

Ever since Shiro announced his engagement to his boyfri- _finance,_ I don't know what came over me. Jumping up and down in excitement; bailing ugly tears of joy and waking up angry neighbours as I screamed in happiness. All for the sake of unmistakable joy and fear building up within me.

But fear? Why so?

I clearly recall, after housing a tiny celebration with fruity gin & tonics and shots of sickeningly powerful vodka between myself and Shiro, going to bed and laying under my thin covers (black, of course) in my single bed. The bedsprings made no sound as I laid stiff and quiet like a mummy sealed in its ancient coffin, staring at the chipped ceiling lost in thought.

You could literally hear a pin drop in this confined and crappy room which I'm proud to call my lovely escape den - one with underwear littering the floor and cigarette ends sprawled across the top of an oak chest of drawers. Like I said, lovely.......

..........

...........

Okay! I admit - it _may be_ in need of a little cleanup, but it's not the most important thing at this moment of time. Also, don't tell Shiro I admitted that readers, he'd use that for the perfect blackmail INDEFINITELY.

 _Aaannnd_ I shouldn't be breaking the fourth wall..

Anyway, back to the story.

Street lights reflected off the small windows and streaked brightly across the ceiling in long, white streaks. I tried my best to fall asleep; to get a small wink of sleep but depression is a stubborn bitch and refused to be ignored.

**_"Its about time Shiro left you."_ **

_"He'll never leave me."_

**_'Stupid. He’s getting married. Do you not understand? He’s ready to move on.’_ **

_'Shiro would never forget me.’_

**_"How can you be so sure of that?"_ **

_"Because I'm his brother, well sort of."_

**_"You're not important to him. Not even to yourself."_ **

_"Your wrong, so fucking wrong."_

**_"You're forgettable, Keith."_ **

_"Shut up! Just shut up!"_

**_"You're invisible."_ **

_"I don't want to hear anymore!"_ ****

**_"You're NOTHING."_ **

Those thoughts, evil and direful are what kept me awake all night. Those thoughts are what made me weep tears. Those thoughts are what made me feel weak and hate myself more.

Those thoughts are what destroy me.

Of course I felt proud and overjoyed for Shiro's next thrilling chapter in life. For all the hard work and unfortunate shit he's been through, this is the reward most people would want - both him and Adam deserve happiness and if tying the knot will make them happy, then who am I to judge.

So why the HELL do I feel this tugging in my heart? A tremble shaking my bones?

Sighing, I rub away the crust pinching the corner of my eyelids. Maybe it'll be best if I focus on the task on hand instead of wander aimlessly in my head to uncover this strange feeling. I move my hands away in time to see a familiar face appear on my laptop screen.

"Hey mom."

"Keith, my smol bean. How've you been?" Readers, meet Krolia. My mother.

Biting my tongue, I forced a small smile. God, oh great God why does she give me these names? I know I'm 5'6, but I'm not _that_ small?

"I'm good."

"That's great to hear," I blink when she moves closer to the camera, her eyes squinting. "Where's ya boy?"

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

"Seriously mom," dramatically throwing my head into my hands in embarrassment "could you not."

"What?" Call me delusional, but I swear I could hear a smug radiate off her words, "I'm curious. So do you or do you not have the fresh catch of the day."

"No mom." My words muffled. God, could she be even more embarrassing?

"I'm just looking out for you. You sound so lonely. Maybe, if you need some content, buy one of those - oh what do you call them? That's it! A body pillow."

In a split second, I whip my head up and face the screen. "Okay! Can we please change subject!" Like hell I'm gonna let this continue.

Probably brushing off my discomfort, my mom simply shrugs and crosses her arms in front of her. "If you wanna change subject, we can do that." I let out a long breath in relief.

"Even though I'm excited I can talk to my only son, it's no question your call surprised me. It's unlike you to call me often. So, what's the T?"

"Okay, first of all," pointing at her slightly pixelated face "don't ever say 'what's the T' ever again. Second, I called because I do have news - quite exciting news to be honest."

A burst of uproarious shrills escape my mom's lips as her palms fly to cover her lips. If she was a bubble, she would've burst from excitement. "Ooooh! What's happened? What am I missing out on? What's the motherfucking T?"

 _'Didn't I just say don't ever say that again like two seconds ago?'_ I think bluntly. God, this woman drives me up the Great Wall of China.

"You know Shiro?" She nods a little too enthusiastically.

Here goes nothing, "Well yesterday, Adam proposed to him and now they're engaged."

Not even a millisecond after, I feel my ass launch off the stool like a NASA rocket as I'm completely caught off-guard by an explosion of ear-splitting whoops and screams, my laptop speakers crackling at the glass-shattering pitch.

"Mom! Mom, for the love of Christ stop screaming!"

"They're engaged?! I'm so excited!"

I couldn't hold back a smile at her reaction. "Yeah, you should've seen Shiro last night. Couldn't stop jumping for the stars."

"Oh bless him," she cooed "I bet he picked you as his Best Man, didn't he?" My cheeks grew warm as I unintentionally blush; this just spikes her joy. "Ah Keith, that's great to hear. Believe me, Shiro could have never picked a better person to take this respectful honour."

I rub my neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah I know. I wanted to inform you the wedding is taking place in a few months time."

"I'll have to book a day off from work. Kolivan should be okay with that. There's no way in hell I'm missing my first gay wedding."

"Also, they've invited you to attend the engagement party this Friday."

"Sorry Keith, but I'm fully booked this week. Kolivan and I are attending a very important exhibition and convention to discuss business plans with Alfor Altea. Unfortunately it will run from Tuesday until Saturday, so it'll be impossible for me to come over."

 _'Shit on a stick'_ I curse darkly in my head.

"Its okay mom." I reassure her while freaking out in the inside.

However, she looks uncertain. "Are you sure, Keith? " I nod my head.

"I'm 100% certain. This is Shiro and Adam we're talking about. I've known them for a long time. Trust me, I'll be okay."  
  
  
  


***TIME LAPSE***  
  
  
  


"I am NOT okay."

In all honesty, I expected this party to be hosted at the pier or a pub...... a really, really nice pub. I know my brother first hand, next to Adam of course and Shiro was never the type to go ballistic about extreme party decorations or luxury country houses to throw a single party no matter what the principal of said party is celebrating about. Usually, he would gather party essentials at an average and affordable price.

So why the fuck am I sitting down on my bike facing a very luxurious and millionaire-expensive country house with parades of pink and white balloons surrounding the cobblestone courtyard and a beautiful floral archway leading into the engagement party?

Where the fuck am I?!

Turning the key, I listen to the gentle humming of the engine splutter into abrupt silence. People stroll by, gossiping in an eager tone. But what throws me off is how well-dressed they were. Stylish and immaculate outfits galore makes me freeze in bewilderment. Some took out polished pocket watches; others were fanning themselves with finely detailed fans.

Am I in the right place?

Opening the side pocket of my leather jacket, I quickly take out the small invitation and scan the fancy gold writing.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Looking up, I am faced with a blonde-haired butler dressed in a pristine suit and holding a silver plate of glasses filled with bubbling champagne.

"Oh hey." I greet awkwardly. When and where did this guy come from?

"Are you here for Adam and Shiro's engagement party?" He speaks, nose slightly turned up at my plain outfit. _'Fucking dick.'_

"Y-yeah. Here." Showing him the weirdly extravagant card. He simply hums before unexpectedly bowing.

"Welcome to Primrose Country Manor."

Oh, its a manor. "Um, thanks? W-will it be okay if I park my bike here?"

"Where else can you park it?" Turning around, I quickly acknowledge the motor-court is compact to the rim with glamorous cars.

"Oh."

I turn my attention back to the slightly snobby butler as he continues, "the party is taking place on the ground floor."

"Appreciate it." I politely thank and he hands me a sparkling glass of champagne before walking away with a calm stance to the next car: a cream 1959 MGA.

"Fucking rich people." I sombrely mutter under my breath and I begin my descent into the historical building.

Almost immediately I'm bombarded with strangers, who care little of my presence and continue to chat boisterously while taking the odd sip of champagne; their laughs echoing all around me. Perhaps it was nerves and anxiety because I bashfully brush small creases denting my maroon blouse and black, slim jeans. Wait, why am I uncomfortable with the way I look? I've never given two shits about what anyone thinks of my fashion.

Also, where the fuck am I?! All I see is heads; look over there, more heads!

WHY IS THIS SO CONFUSING?!

This is too much. Too many people. I should've never come without my mom being by my side. This is ridiculous. I can't handle this. I can't get no space. It's too cramped. I can't. I can't do this. I need air. I need to get-...

"There's my Best Man!"

I feel the air surge out of me when a metal arm slings around my shoulders and pulls me tight into a warm hug. Out of all the booming voices, I recognise this one.

"Shiro! How are you?"

"I'm good. So, what do you think?" He gestures to the surroundings with a gleaming smile, his teeth twinkling in the chandelier's lights.

"It's awesome." I respond with a smile. At least I think I do.

"What's with the frown?" He asks, concern dusting his words. I try to make conversation, but it's like the words choke in my throat and tiny sounds rasp out instead. A faint sensation of clothing brushes past my back and I inadvertently flinch at the stupidly small touch. Suddenly, it feels a little too hot and I can feel droplets of sweat trickle down the side of my face.

While I feel embarrassed, it seems Shiro catches onto my uncomfortableness standing in such a cramped area. Clutching my clammy hand, he swiftly weaves through the parade of people while I keep my head down; my chin tucked into my chest and my eyes averting to the moving marble floor.

Soon, I feel a cool breeze whip through my hair and the marble floor changes to grey gravel. I look up and I'm met with the shearing light of the blazing sun bearing down into my sight.

"I'm sorry about that. I know you don't do well with overcrowded places." Shiro apologises. I shake my head in dismissal. He sees me for two seconds and already helps calm me down from bordering a panic attack. _'God, I'm useless at times.'_

**_"Yes you are."_ **

"Don't worry about it. I feel much better now, thanks." Drawing out another deep yet more relaxed breath, I pan my eyes over the new environment. Freshly cut hedges flank the garden with prickly rose bushes, shrubs of lavender and other fragmented flowers planted on either side of the steps leading down from the gravelled patio to the vast span of trimmed grass. There are still a lot of people but they are spread out in smaller groups. It is way less cramped outside than inside. Also, the air didn't feel heavy; just fresh and I managed to get my breathing back under control.

I wouldn't say that I'm claustrophobic - I just don't like overcrowded places because I'm not good with meeting new people. I feel out-of-place and I start to overthink things, which in the end raises my anxiety and causes me to have breakdowns.

Shiro lets out a breath of relief as he watches me gain _some_ composure, but just enough to feel more relaxed. "Good. The last thing I would hate to happen to you is having an anxiety attack. Please, if you ever feel uncomfortable just let me know."

I nod. "I will."

Suddenly, Shiro's face lights up and I can only assume something good has crossed his mind. "Hey, I've got a great idea. To make you feel more comfortable, I want you to meet the other groomsmen."

I grimace at the thought of speaking to strangers, even if they complete the rest of Shiro's attendants. "Don't worry Keith," Shiro assures me "they're really friendly and it will be nice for you to get along with a few other people here. I have a really good feeling you're going to get along with them very well."

 _'In your dreams'_ I numbly think.

We walk past other party members; Shiro greeting some a quick "hello" or "thank you" before continuing on through the thick crowd of guests, all while I try to make myself less visible to avoid interaction.

"Ah, here's one. Matt!"

I catch sight of a tall man with messy, shoulder length hair dressed in a slim fit beige jacket and trousers. At the sound of Shiro's voice, the man turns around. I take note of his brown eyes, pale skin and sharp jawline. Overall, he looks a few years older than me. Underneath the jacket, he wears a white buttoned shirt. Like everyone else, he holds a glass half full of champagne.

With a smile widening and an arm open, he brings Shiro into a light hug. "Shiro! Let me tell you - this party is fucking incredible. This champagne is the best."

Laughing heartily at his words, Shiro pulls away before nudging me forward. "Matt, I would like to introduce you to Keith."

Matt's attention instantly swaps to me and his smile never ceases when he holds a hand out. "Hey Keith. As you probably know, the name's Matt. Matt Holt."

I shake his hand lightly. "Keith. Keith Kogane."

Breaking the handshake, Matt continues to speak in a casual voice which makes me feel the tiniest bit better. "Shiro has told me a few things about you. It's a shame we never got to meet in person before today."

"W-well I'm not much of an extrovert."

"Dude same! I swear me and my brother are gremlins lurking in the dark."

I tilt my head. "Brother?"

"Pidge, he's my younger brother."

"Pidge?" Never have I ever heard of a name like that in my life.

"It's the nickname I gave him before he transitioned into a boy. He liked it, so he changed his name from Katie to Pidge."

"Oh, cool. I've never met a person who's transgender before. Is he here?"

"Somewhere. Have fun finding him - motherfucker is a slippery midget. It's no wonder I got most of the blame growing up."

I let out a small laugh. This guy is chill and I can roll with that. It gives me a little more confidence in meeting the other groomsmen.

"Don't worry. I have a very sharp eye."

"You better or that little fuck is gonna slip under your arms like a slippery snake. Fucking hate snakes. One time I got a part time job at a pet shop and on one of my shifts, I got assigned to clean out the snake's enclosure."

"That's pretty cool." What snake rattled this guy's ass?

Matt shook his head; the smile completely vanishing. "Uh-uh, my manager never informed me that the bastard laid eggs. I saw hatched eggs but no babies. I assumed they relocated the family elsewhere. It wasn't until I got home and opened my pack-bag, them little offsprings of Satan were curled up at the bottom and staring at me."

My eyebrows pitch in surprise. "No way."

"Fucking yes way! I swear they were staring right into my soul, Keith." His eyes blew up like he was mentally reliving this traumatic experience. I lean back as he closes in on me, his fingers pointing to his widened eyes. "My soul."

Laughing awkwardly, I look to Shiro and he gets the message: _Get me the fuck out of here!_

Pulling Matt away, he lays a hand on his shoulder. "Thank-you Matt. But I'm gonna go and introduce Keith to the others."

In a flash, Matt's smile returns and resumes to his previous happy self; acting like nothing weird just happened. Was this guy hypnotised or something?

"Sure thing Shiro. It was nice meeting you, Keith."

"Duly noted." I mumble before me and Shiro begin to walk away. "The fuck is wrong with that guy?" I hiss when we're a safe distance from Matt.

"First of all: language. Second, those snakes really did give Matt a fright."  
  


***VERY VERY QUICK TIME-LAPSE***  
  


"Keith, this is one of my closet friends: Hunk and his girlfriend, Shay."

Suited and booted in a tangerine jacket with a matching tie and trousers; completed with a black buttoned shirt and an orange bandana wrapped around his forehead, I could physically describe Hunk as a burly, pot-bellied man with rich mahogany skin and a really defined square jaw. Standing next to Shiro, I could distinguish he was a few inches taller, but likewise they both had a similar muscle build.

I quickly catch onto the fact that despite the impressive heavy build Hunk possesses, the moment he started talking I knew he was soft and kind-hearted. "Hello Keith, my name is Hunk. This is Shay."

Shay was wearing a silver halter neck gown with small pearl earrings and a chunky pearl necklace. Her auburn hair styled into loose short curls; she looked pretty. She gives me a small wave. "Its so good to finally meet you Keith."

"Same to you." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shiro faintly smile at my attempts to socialise. In all my years of living on planet Earth, this is probably the most meet-and-greets I've ever attempted. I've set the new record for emos.

"I'm surprised you haven't given Keith a hug yet, Hunk." Shiro joins in, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. Hunk sighs and casts his gaze down.

"I know. Shiro told me you don't do well with physical contact and I wanted to respect your boundaries." Hunk says looking up to face me. I side glance Shiro and he simply nods his head towards Hunk.

I sigh. "You can give me a hug."

In a blink, Hunk's face brightens like the sun emerging from thick rainclouds. "Really? Are you sure? I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"It's fine. Besides, it's just a hu- _oh Jesus..._ " I squeak out the last part as I'm abruptly pulled into a bear hug. I can feel my joints pop and bones crack in places I've never thought possible as he squeezes me like a stress ball. I can hardly breath!

"Careful Hunk," I hear Shiro say over the thumping of blood inside my ears "Keith is a twig."

_'Haha, very funny Shiro.'_

Giving me one last squeeze that has most likely squashed my balls into Play-Doh mush, Hunk finally releases me. I stumble on my feet before Shiro steadies me with a strong grip on my shoulder.

"I think that's the biggest hug Keith has ever had." Shiro jests. I glare at my brother and my cheeks warm as the three of them start to chuckle.

"So, how are you finding the party Keith?" Shay asks. I clear my throat and tidy my hair a little.

"It's something entirely different than I had in mind. Wasn't expecting it to be this.... grand?"

"It's spectacular, isn't it? Me and Hunk were a little surprised too." She looks to Hunk and their eyes connect.

"Sure thing, my little rock cake." Hunk lightly boops her nose.

Shay giggles before wrapping her arms delicately around Hunk's meaty left arm and leaning into his side; her head resting on his broad shoulder. "Oh Hunk, my sweet chocolate chip."

They start to giggle and chuckle in a way that is downright cringe. I pull a face and I can't stop staring at this strange moment. I look to Shiro and I can tell his forcing a smile to hide his awkwardness. I look back to the couple as their pitch rises.

God fucking save me.  
  
  


***VERY VERY VERY QUICK TIME-LAPSE***  
  
  


"Pidge, this is Keith. Keith, this is-," Shiro pauses when something in the swarm of guests something catches his eye "hold on a second, I'll be right back." Walking into the swarm, Shiro is eaten up alive and I turn my attention back to Pidge.

Now I can understand why Matt warned me. Standing at what I'm guessing a low 5'3, Pidge was no joke when it comes to the midget department. He wore a dark green jacket; his trousers and bow-tie the same colour and finished it with an off-white linen shirt. He also accommodated a pair of wire-framed circular glasses.

"So you're Matt's little brother." I start. Maybe I can try and start a conversation this time.

"Yep, I'm the other gremlin," he takes a sip of champagne "bet that desperate fucker was in a circle full of girls when you talked to him."

Rewinding back to first meeting Matt, I realise Pidge was right. "You're not wrong."

He smirks. "Of course I'm not. I don't use my 300 IQ for science and hacking only, you know."

"You specialise in hacking?"

"How else am I able to uncover what the government is finding in Area 51. Those files have been kept undercover for too long."

"Wait, wait, wait. You've hacked into the government ? How the fuck did you do that?"

A ray of light glows up Pidge's glasses and his lips curl into a sadistic grin. "I have my ways - bitches got nothing on me."

It's confirmed: Pidge Holt is one slippery motherfucker.

"Your brother also told me you’re transgender." I continue while taking my first sip of the bubbly champagne. Fizzles of bubbles cascade down my throat and I cough at the strong taste. ' _Christ, that packs a punch.'_

"Yep. Let me guess, this is the first time you've talked to a transgender person before." I nod. I don't know if his very good observation skills are a good or bad thing.

"I started this transitioning journey by taking hormone blockers at twelve and a couple of years ago, I finally got the thumbs up to have genital surgery."

"Congrats man." I raise the rim of the glass to my lips to take another sip.

"Yeah, it was a life-changing experience the surgery was, but a good one. In with a vagina and out with a dick."

I splutter on my drink in time with Shiro reappearing by my side. "Sorry about that. I had to stop my uncle going for the cheese selection. Lactose intolerant you see. Pidge, is it okay I can take Keith from here. Gotta introduce him to Lance."

_'Lance? Who the fuck is Lance?'_

"No problem Shiro. I'm gonna go see if there is any champagne left. This shit is weak and I want to feel numb at the end of today." He says looking down at his empty glass as he walks away.

"Don't get drunk Pidge." Shiro calls after him.

"You sound like my mom."

Shaking his head, Shiro guides me away to a hallway. "Where is he? I just saw him a few seconds ago." Straining his neck to search for this supposed _Lance._

"Who is La-" I'm quickly cut off as Shiro chimes in, "Oh there he is. Lance!"

Once more, I follow his line of sight.

A mop of brown hair glistens in the delicate light of the chandelier hanging above. It's like the other guests go blurry and the atmosphere switches into a state of slow-motion. Head turning, my eyes widen and in a heartbeat, my breath catches in my throat as my jaw drops slightly ajar.

A tall and toned man turns and looks at our direction. With exfoliated mocha skin and a sharp jawline, I'm bewitched by his shimmering blue eyes that instantly remind me of the clear, crisp water of the ocean. His pink lips upturn into a flashing smile that lights up the room like a shooting star and porcelain teeth sparkle in the moderate light. His suit outshines the others: a very expensive Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition, complete with deep navy shirt and matching black trousers. His hair neatly slicked back with a thin coat of gel keeping it in its sophisticated style.

I literally can't form any words; I'm choking on my spit that's gurgling in my throat. I couldn't take my eyes of such stunning beauty. Then I realise:

Shit! He is HOT!

_Fuck, I'm in trouble!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fingers hurt from typing so much.  
> Thank-you for your kudos, guys and have a nice day.


	6. Frenemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I literally can't form any words; I'm choking on my spit that's gurgling in my throat. I couldn't take my eyes of such stunning beauty. Then I realise:
> 
> Shit! He is HOT!
> 
> Fuck, I'm in trouble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up all night and up all day. Missed several hours of sleep but this update was totally worth it. Thank you for your comments and kudos.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

_Keith's POV_

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

A FUCKING BIG, FAT **FUCK** OF THE BIGGEST AND FATTEST FUCKS IN THE UNIVERSE OF FUCKS!

Why, oh _why_ did Shiro choose someone so drop-dead gorgeous? He knows how hot guys are my ultimate weakness. That bastard must know what he is doing. Someone with looks this hot should be illegal. Go to court. Get given a fucking life sentence!

 _"Just a quick heads up, Keith. I'm friends with an extremely good-looking guy who makes whatever room he walks in his centre stage." -_ that would've helped! Thank-you Shiro.

Now I'm standing frozen and catching flies with my slacked jaw as I'm caught completely off-guard by this handsome angel gliding across the room like he is effortlessly skating over a frozen lake - SHIT! HE'S COMING TOWARDS US! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!

Okay, Keith! Calm down. Don't panic. Everything will be okay. Just keep your shit together - nice and easy.

"Shiro. There you are."

Fuck his voice is sexy! Silky, smooth and scrumptious. God, I'm so fucking gay. But those lips-

No, no! Bad Keith. Don't you dare think gay thoughts. Now's not the time to fantasise how alluring his voice is; how his moist lips part with every breath; how heavenly good they would feel gliding against my-

"I'M KEITH!"

A stunned silence is instantly brought upon us. It takes no genius to figure out both Shiro and Lance are taken aback by my outburst as their heads turn to me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

Embarrassment setting into place, I scrunch my lips and my eyes comically blow up. Like an explosion, I feel my nose, cheeks, chin - basically my entire fucking face light up with a fierce scarlet.

That's right, you heard me - scarlet. Fuck red, this shit calls for scarlet.

I avert my eyes when Shiro begins to chuckle. God, this so embarrassing. "I think you need to lay off on the champagne there, Keith."

Fuck scarlet: enter beetroot. Fucking vivid it'll make you blind.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lance's smile brighten; his shiny, white teeth peeking through parted lips and sparkle in the natural sunlight. Does he get his teeth whitened?

"Ah-ha, the Best Man. I've been waiting to meet you since, forever." He spoke in a silky tone that made the hairs stand on the back of my neck. This is guy is doing wonders on my body that nobody else has ever done before. Shit, I'm swimming in deep waters.

"Y-y-yeah. T-that will be m-me." How badly I wanted to slap myself for stuttering. It's like this guy has a put a spell, heck a CURSE on me.

"No need to feel nervous around me. I take my time meeting new people as well, sweetheart." He winks at me.

I gulp hard. "S-sure." Stop stuttering. You're making your first impression worse.

"Keith here," Shiro chimes in slinging his prosthetic arm gently over my shoulders "has also been waiting to meet you too, Lance."

_'Shiro what the fuck are you doing?'_

"Really? That's great to hear. Oh where are my manners?" He extends a hand out in front of me and I can't seem to take any control over my body as my eyes capture his movement. "My name's Lance. _The_ Lance McClain. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Keith Kogane."

With a mind of its own, my hand reaches out and firmly locks with Lance's soft, warm hand. A unforeseen spark shoots through my body and my throat suddenly wilts.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!

"N-nice to meet you too, Lance." At least the stuttering has somewhat improved - I feel like I can breath a littler more easier. Looking up, our eyes meet. Shards of rich blue and hints of dull grey entice me to stare a little longer at Lance's striking eyes. They're the most stunning set of eyes I've ever bore into and no matter how much I try to look away, my mind is truly captivated.

"You're really pretty."

The hand that was locked in the handshake flew up to my mouth and once more, I feel my eyes widen way more than last time.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Lance blinks in slight shock before another breathtaking smile shapes his perfect lips. "Thank-you. You're so cute."

_'Merciful Jesus!'_

Shiro pats my shoulder and turns to Lance. "I still can't thank your father enough for allowing the party to take place at his manor, Lance." Wait, what?

Lance pouts and playfully pokes Shiro's arm. "I keep telling you this - my father happily said he doesn't want any gratitude from you, nor Adam."

"I know, I should've known your father would be like that," Shiro continues while poking him back "he was the exact same since the very first day of work."

"Work?" I cut in. I don't know a damn thing about Lance and its about time that I do. Shiro looks at me before stepping to Lance's side. He beams a smile.

"Lance's father is my new boss. He introduced me to Lance about seven months ago as soon as he came back from abroad." A small frown plants itself onto my face.

_'That's weird, Shiro never mentioned to me about moving work - I thought he was happy where he previously worked since he looked fine and never complained.'_

"That's right. From that day on, we've been stuck together like glue." Lance declares.

For some unknown reason I'm thrown off by his arm slinging across Shiro's shoulders and pulling him into a friendly hug. An invisible tug pulls at my heart when I witness Shiro's face light up and he pulls Lance tighter with an arm wrapping around his waist; his soft laughs immediately mixing with Lance's chuckles.

It's at that moment, I find Lance a little too clingy for my liking. Something about this guy creates a churn in my gut and I really don't like it, especially with that grin he shoots me. This guy, I don't like him - not anymore.

Separating, Shiro and Lance share a fist pump. I feel a twitch in my eye and right now, I don't want to be around Lance anymore. As a matter of fact, I want to leave. I didn't like their intimacy.

Clearing my throat for no apparent reason, a burst of pride parades within my body as Shiro redirects his full attention to me. "Sorry, I had a small tickle in my throat." I lie slyly. A small smile uproots the corner of my lips.

It seems Shiro believes me and he steps away from Lance, but I feel the smile vanish when he happily turns back to him as he begins talking again.

"Well, I better go and check on the hors d'oeuvres," he says in perfect French. Of course this rich bastard knows how to speak French. "It was so fun meeting you Keith."

I simply nod and I'm once again mesmerised by his fluent departure. He gracefully walks into the sea of people like a dandelion puffball floating through the air. A vision.

I break out of my trance when a firm grip clutches my left shoulder and shakes it. I look to that direction and soon face Shiro standing to my side; a smile flaring happiness on his face.

He turns to me. "Lance is amazing, isn't he?" I sense the pride and glee radiating in his tone. Point blank, he sounds just like a proud father praising their kid.

"Yeah," I say turning back to where Lance disappeared, "he sure is."  
  
  


***TIME-LAPSE***  
  
  


"-and I said, Ichika-chan our baby has grown up into a fine young man and after searching high and low, he has found the love of his life. I'm proud of my son, not only for the accomplishments he has made and will keep on making, but the fact that I couldn't have asked for a better son. Now get married so I can save a shitload of money."

Everyone in the family room starts to laugh at Mr Shirogane's joke while I lightly chuckle. Let me fill you in: after meeting the other groomsmen, everyone gathered into the ridiculously large family room that astonishingly managed to squeeze in every single guest. Presently, I am standing near the front of the crowd, quietly watching and listening to those who take a mic and present their speeches. Being the most important couple in the room, Adam and Shiro are centred upfront and positioned smack-bang in the middle of the formed arch of people. Guests near them constantly sent them gratified smiles and a few thumbs-up.

"See, everybody laughs when I say that because they think I'm joking. I'm not joking. A toast," raising his glass "to Shiro and Adam." Everyone, including myself raise our glasses and a steady wave of cheers flow through the crowd.

"Now that I've said everything I wanted to say, let's move on shall we?" I silently nod to myself and look down at my drink. Microscopic bubbles float at the top of the golden sheen of intoxicating liquid.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our Best Man: Keith."

I felt a soft crack in my neck when I snap my head up. Looking ahead, my anxiety begins to rise as Mr Shirogane stands in front of me. With an arm extended, he was patiently waiting for me to take ahold of the microphone. Not wanting to make fool of myself in front a hungry pack of (mostly) snobs, I nervously grasp the microphone in my sweaty hand. Mr Shirogane then moves casually out of my way and I begin to ascend towards the small stage.

A few cheers and light whoops are directed at me, but they don't do shit in calming my growing nerves. To make matters worse, I suddenly realise something: I never made a speech.

 _'Shit! What the fuck am I supposed to say?!'_ I panically think as I turn to face the quiet crowd. I've clearly wronged myself thinking this day could NOT have gotten any worse for me. I'm a fucking idiot - why the hell did I not rehearse a damn speech, knowing it was expected of the Best Man. Fuck my life!

"Um, hi. M-my name is Keith."

My eyes fall onto Shiro when he excitedly cheers "yay Keith!", a smile gleaming off of his face as he fist-pumps the air and lovingly hugs Adam, who in return wraps an arm comfortably around his waist. Inhaling cool air up my nose, I let out a steady breath and regain some bravery.

"I'm g-gonna be completely honest and say that I don't want to make this a long speech. However, I-I do have a few w-words to say. Shiro and Adam, for as long as I can remember, you guys have given me nothing but love, a home and a fresh start in life. I thank you for that, a lot. Out of everyone in this world, you guys deserve the most happiness and I'm happy to be part of this celebration. Thank-you."

I'm awarded with a rise of claps and cheers, including the odd raise of glasses emerging over some people's heads in different places in the crowd. Satisfied with my quick, on-the-spot speech, I go to walk off stage but suddenly stop when I hear footsteps appear next to me. Turning around, I'm a little surprised to discover _who_ has set afoot onto the stage.

Lance.

I wordlessly watch as he gently unlatches the mic from my loose grip and gives me a soft smile. He steps a little closer and I back away, finally stepping off the stage with somewhat confusion.

Seeing my exit, Lance takes full advantage of the stage and warmly looks upon the parade of faces. He pulls the mic close to his lips and begins to deliver a speech.

"Thank-you Keith. That was very kind of you. Your words touched everyone's hearts. Shiro," I watch his line of sight swiftly glance from me to my brother, "you and I have had our most funny moments during our time of being friends. Remember when we went to Blacksand Beach, and we started a sand castle tournament. In the end, we couldn't decide who's was the best so we started to gather wet sand and chunks of seaweed before throwing it at each other," a few chuckles filter the air and I raise an eyebrow.

What part of that is funny?

"Then on the same evening, we watched the sun slowly set over the beautiful ocean; it's strikes of pink and orange and peach illuminating the sky while we drank wine and indulged ourselves with marinated cheese and olives. Oh, it was the best moment of my life. You made me feel such a better person and I can't thank you enough. Now, Adam, I know you'll love this man with all your heart for the rest of your life, but as much as you want to, don't handcuff him to the bed - I need my buddy by my side to go to the cocktail bar and get drunk from mixing different flavours together. So guests, let's raise our glasses and toast to my best friend, Shiro and the newest couple of the decade: Adam and Shiro!"

I jump at the mighty uproar of applause and the loud clinking of glasses. I flick my head to see Shiro brushing away a few tears, likewise with others who got emotional. A bomb of anger erupts within me and I face Lance is still standing on the stage with the microphone clutched in his hand.

_'That son of a bitch is trying to outdo me.'_

Without a second of thought, I hurriedly walk onto the stage and grab ahold of the microphone. "Could I just take that quickly?" I whisper sternly to Lance before freeing the mic out of his loosening grip.

"Thank you. Shiro!" I pause when everyone returns their attention to me, "I would like to add that I've always looked up to you. You never gave up on me and I'm grateful for that. Your independence, your strength and determination is what inspires me to take risks in life. I'm honoured to be your Best Man. You're the brother I've always wanted and I hope our close friendship contains to grow stronger over the next unforeseen years, no matter what life throws at us. Thank you and I think that concludes the speeches for this evening."

At the end, I raise my glass and pridefully walk off the empty stage, keeping ahold of the microphone. I believe I did better than last time cause there is a more modest set of cheers echoing in the vintage room. But that triumph was cut way, way too short...

Confusion surges through my veins when the crowd suddenly clap their hands and avert their eyes back to the stage. Following their gaze, I'm struck by the sight of Lance, once again, standing on the stage with another mic; it's handle polished quartz.

Where the FUCK did this motherfucker get another mic?!

"Thank you, Keith. Growing up, I had a ton of friends surrounding me. But none of them compare to you. That's right Shiro," pointing at Shiro who looked heartfelt, "you are the friend that always stuck by my side, through thick and thin. Living in Cuba, I learnt something that I would just like to say: _los amigos se cuentan con los dedos de la Mano, pero tú tienes que saber bien quién es tu amigo verdadero_."

A collection of "oohs" and "ahhs" upsurge at the end of Lance's skillfully spoken Spanish. I can feel the anger steadily swell in the pit of my stomach.

"It means: _friends count on the fingers of the Hand, but you have to know who your real friend is_. Gracias a todos. Gracias."

I look around the room at the sound of guests attempting to repeat the last line Lance said. They look they are enjoying themselves and were staring at Lance with obvious awe. Some shed a few tears; others were hugging their partners. My jaw drops.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?!

Also, I swear I hear someone say, "there's so much UST. I can't handle it."

"Thank you everyone for your attendance and that is it for tonight. Dessert wine is now being served. ¿Vamos?" Lance is about to step off the stage, but I'm not gonna let that bastard get the last speech of the day.

I take to the stage once more. "Speaking of vamos, Shiro and I took Spanish in high school. For old time sake, I would like to say to every attendee and Shiro.... gracias por incendiar mi casa y.... chupándome las pelotas. Vete a la mierda."

I bow my head and prepare to step off. "There is nothing in this world," for fuck's sake, again! "that will tear you and I apart. I'll always be your side and you can count on me. Now then, shall we move on."

I watch everyone lightly fumble around to begin their exit over to the next room. My eyes fall onto Shiro and Adam and a sudden rush of adrenaline pumps through my body. I can only think of one thing to do. I pull the mic to my lips.

"Shiro!"

Every guest and butler stop midway in their actions and refocus their attention back onto me. I grip the handle of the mic, this time with both sweaty hands. _'Fuck it!'_

_"~keep smilin', keep shinin',_   
_Knowin' you can always count on me for sure_   
_That's what_ _ friends are for _ _-"_

My singing is conjoined with Lance's voice and we stare each other dead in the eye; our voices rising to top the other.

_ "~For good times and bad times _   
_ I'll be on your side forevermore _   
_ That's what friends are for!" _

On the last line, we stand back-to-back and hold the note. There is what I can only describe, an ear-splitting round of applause with sharp whistles, loud clapping and overzealous cheering as we finally stop and take a bow.   
  


***TIME-LAPSE***  
  


Standing outside under the colourful evening sky in the cool air with a crisp breeze drifting through my black hair, I look down blankly at my helmet. Shimmers of bronze gleam off my helmet as the cast iron lamp posts begin to turn on, lightening up the motor court in a comfortable glow.

I was so trapped in my thoughts that I didn't hear Shiro creeping up from behind. A pat on my back brings me back into the world and I turn my head to see him standing by my side; his hand staying in the same position at the top of my back.

"And they said I couldn't hold my liquor. Look at me, three martini glasses of Malibu later and I'm still standing." He laughed. I could tell Shiro had a little bit more alcohol than he usually would as I can see his eyes are cloudy. A grin pulls at my lips from his sassy comment.

"Serves 'em right," I place the helmet on top of the seat of my bike, "so, that Lance guy. He's something isn't he?"

At the sound of Lance's name, Shiro smiles and nods. "He sure is. By the way, you seemed a little tense when speaking to him."

I shrug my shoulders; tapping a finger against the rough rubber of my bike's handle. I see a glimpse of a frown appear on Shiro's face. "You don't like him?"

"No, it's not that. It's just, his personality is very...."

"Big?" Shiro supposed. I nod as I take my key out of a leather pocket and grab my helmet. "Keith, wait."

I stop myself from sitting down on my bike to drive away. Instead, I turn my head to face Shiro. "I know Lance's personality is a lot to take in, heck it took me some time to get used to how bubbly and talkative he is. But Lance, he really is a nice guy once you get to know him."

"Shiro, please I understand what you're trying to say and it's not gonna work."

Shiro quickly cuts me off, "just trust me when I say this, Keith. I would like you to try and get to know him a little better. Today was a busy day for him with the whole managing thing of making sure everything ran smoothly. You'll like him more once you guys start talking. So please, can you do that for me?"

I watch him pull his famous puppy dog face and I can't go against that. Later, I'm gonna kick myself in balls for this: "Fine. I'll meet up with him."

Like a kid opening a present on Christmas Day, Shiro squeals in happiness and pulls me into a hug. "Thank you Keith. Lance is right - you are cute."

I grumble and throw hands when he ruffles my hair. "Okay, okay," I cry, whacking him in the chest lightly, "Jesus, you're like a kid."

"I know." He chuckles. I smile before putting on my helmet and sitting down comfortably onto my bike. "Make sure you drive safely and keep to the road limits." I roll my eyes at his motherly protectiveness.

"Yes, dad."

I ram the key into the slot and the beautiful roar of the engine is brought back to life. I salute him then steadily drive around the waterfall and quickly out of the motor-court.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Gracias a todos - thank you everyone.  
> ¿Vamos? - shall we/ we go  
> gracias por incendiar mi casa - thank you for setting my house on fire   
> y.... chupándome las pelotas - and.... sucking my balls  
> Vete a la mierda - fuck you.
> 
> Please let me know if these translations are wrong. Anyhow, i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned until next week.


	7. Rackets Up, Balls Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just trust me when I say this, Keith. I would like you to try and get to know him a little better. Today was a busy day for him with the whole managing thing of making sure everything ran smoothly. You'll like him more once you guys start talking. So please, can you do that for me?"
> 
> I watch him pull his famous puppy dog face and I can't go against that. Later, I'm gonna kick myself in balls for this: "Fine. I'll meet up with him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry for the delay. I haven't been feeling 100% mentally and catching a fever really did not help with my anxiety. I got tested and luckily, its not COVID-19, so thank fuck for that. 
> 
> I'll explain more about my mental health in the end notes, so I can let you guys read this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

No one's POV

Engagement parties were meant to be special - an occasion, no doubt filled with overflowing happiness and tears of joy - oh, you can't forget the piles and piles of colourful confetti covering the floor like a giant tsunami flooding a town. It is a memorable time to celebrate the couple's next step into their exciting future, as well as meeting different people and forming a new group of friends. 

But for Keith, well..... that was a completely different scenario....

Speeding along the empty road, rows of towering trees are a blur and a forgettable sight. Not caring about the speed limit, Keith made the road his universe and roughly revs the engine, expelling a deafening roar of mechanical power.

His hands furiously clench the rubber handles in a death-grip and his anger grew with every passing white line painted on the smooth, black tar. Underneath his glossy, black helmet, Keith angrily mimics Lance in an attempt to blow off some steam.

" _Oooh, I'm Lance. Lance Mc-fucking-Clain. I'm so gorgeous. Didn't you know you're soooo cute?_ Why thank you Lance," switching back to his normal voice, "I know. I'm such a cute, cute cutie. Also, I forgot to tell you you're such a big, obnoxious, fucking-"

An abrupt, blaring sound enters the near-peaceful atmosphere; pausing Keith's childish rant. Glancing into his dirt-speckled rearview mirror, a loud groan rumbles inside his throat and he shakes his head in irritation.

"Great, fucking incredible." He grumbles under a puff of hot air and turns the handlebar to swiftly pull over into the shoulder of the highway.

****

"See, I'm perfectly fine."

Under the mysterious gloom of the full moon, Keith looks over his shoulder, halting his cat-walk on a fading skip-line; his arms stretched out like an acrobat walking across a tightrope.

Standing a few metres behind, Acxa stands quiet while the scratchy sound of a sharp, graphite pencil tip dragging across the thin, white paper of a small notebook held firmly in her hand, travels through the crisp air.

"Sure, and your driving says otherwise." She dully comments without looking up, clearly unamused. Keith throws his arms and swings his body to face his bored-looking friend. Acxa glances at him through her row of thin eyelashes before returning to her writing.

"C'mon Acxa. I've already had enough speeding penalties this year and I _really_ don't need anymore. I'm practically broke because of it."

She twirls the pencil between her fingers then points the rubbery base directly at Keith's pale face. "Which exactly tells you why you shouldn't be speeding in the first place, including the second, the third and the fourth time. Don't even think of using the excuse of a so-called 'adrenaline junkie' to worm your way out of this."

Keith's mouth clasps shut and his raised finger lowers to his side. "True," words dragging out between pursed lips "but-"

In a flash, Acxa wiggles a finger and instantaneously cuts Keith off. "No, no, no. No 'buts' Mister Kogane. Not a single 'but'. I don't want to hear anymore 'buts' coming out of your mouth. You know my job, Keith. I serve the law. At the end of the day, I've gotta do what's right no matter how deep the roots of our friendship goes."

 _'I don't know if you know this, but you are a sight for sore eyes.'_ He thinks in a bland tone, eyeing the young policewoman as she threads the pencil through the spiral bounding.

Acxa sighs then locks sight with Keith. "Yet, I am a genuine nice person when I wanna be so, I'm gonna let you off with a warning IF you can promise me that you keep to the speed limits - they're put there for a reason."

Keith let's out a sigh of relief and nods in agreement, a smile painted onto his pink lips. "Thank you Acxa. You don't know how much that means-"

"I'm still gonna have to give you a ticket."

"Wait, what?! What for?!" _What the hell have I done now to deserve a ticket? I thought we were levelling the playing field..._

With a sly grin, Acxa jerks her head over to the back of Keith's silent motorbike. Keith follows her line of sight as she tells him, "funny thing about motorbikes, you need brake lights."

 _Oh_.

"Shit," he hisses through clenched teeth with a facepalm "Acxa I'm so sorry. In all honesty, I completely forgot about that. I've been trying to save some money to get them fixed, but my head has been all over the fucking place lately."

It took no brain power for Acxa to acknowledge the underlying misery and frustration in Keith's tone of voice. Having a small change of heart, she keeps ahold of the ticket and folds it into one of her pockets, triggering confusion and a little hope in Keith.

"Y'know what, forget it for now. Here." Keith watches her hand slip into the opposite side pocket, her fingers bulging the thick fabric out from pressing against it with force. He catches the sight of a small piece of card clasped between her thumb and index finger after she pulls out her hand and presents it to him.

"A friend of mine works at his father's automobile repair shop just outside of town," she tells him as he takes the card, "It'll probably take you a good twenty minutes to get there, but the service is really good, so it'll be worth the drive."

Keith beams a smile and looks down gladly at the saviour of one of his many problems. His eyes skim over the writing and his brain takes notes of its information like the shop's contacts, bullet-pointed repairs offered, the name-.....

Doing a double take, Keith blinks sharply and looks at Acxa, who watches his face scrunch up and brings his attention back to the piece of card. "Michael... Jaxson?"

"With an 'x', not the 'ck'. Different guy. Don't mention it to him. He goes fucking berserk if he hears customers question the shop's name. I mean it." She advises him.

Keith nods and slides the card into a pocket. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you Acxa."

With a half-smile, she waves him off.

"It's the least I can do. But I expect them to be fixed this week." She orders, a stern glare forming onto her face. In the journey of their friendship, Keith knew better not to mess about with her.

A laugh slips out of his lips as he walks towards his bike. "Yeah, yeah. I will - don't worry about that." Keith reassures her.

Flinging a leg over onto to the other side, he sits down onto the padded seat and reaches over to pull off the helmet hanging on one of the handles. Suddenly, a thought pops up into his head and Keith redirects his attention.

"Hey Acxa!" He calls, turning to face said police officer who had opened her door. She looks back and shouts a quick, "yeah?"

"Who's that friend you mentioned?"

Realisation dawns onto Acxa's face and she straightens her slouching posture. "His name's Rolo. He offers the best of the best, so if you go when he's working it would be in your best interest to request him" she counsels, "also, he'll give you a really good deal if you tell him 'Acxa referred me'."

Keith nods, taking in her advice. Acxa was always true to her words and Keith knew that better than anyone else. If he wasn't sure about something, he would always ask for Shiro's word of advice, even more so with Acxa. Two very close friends who Keith put his absolute trust in. Likewise with Shiro, Keith saw her as the older sister he never had and without a doubt, was grateful to have someone as strong and loyal like her stand by his side. It was like the moment they exchanged words together in college, they were bound to each other's hip with super glue; wrists cuffed by an impenetrable friendship bracelet.

"Got it. Thanks again Acxa." He responds and two friends drive off in their separate ways for the night.

***

Treading into his apartment, Keith is instantly hit by a modest silence puncturing the heated air. He carefully pushes the chipped door closed with the odd _CREAK_ bouncing off the walls of the moonlit hallway. After adding his shoes into the dumped mess of footwear sprawling the hardwood floor, he cuts his way through the silence and into his bedroom.

He pulls his leather jacket off while grasping a round, brass knob of his old wooden closet. Pulling open one of the walnut doors, he grabs ahold of one of many coat hangers; the curved, metal wire scrapping against the stainless steel bar as he pulls the hanger off.

Once the jacket was secured on the cheap hanger, Keith quickly hangs it back up while he lets out a light yawn, his jaw lightly clicking as it stoops lower. Snapping his mouth closed, Keith goes to close the door and succumb to much needed sleep for the night, but something catches his eye...

A strip of white fabric peeks out from behind his jacket and before Keith could register any thoughts, he finds himself clutching a thick sleeve of the jacket before using it to slide the piece of clothing aside.

Covered in a light layer of dust, hangs an apron.

Formerly plain and white, it's now splatted with unceremonious amounts of vibrant streaks and monochromatic splotches of paint that create a tangled collage. From acrylics to oils; gouaches to encaustics and flicks and splashes of watercolour, every part of its cotton fabric surface is encrusted and forever stained with rich pigments of colour.

Amethyst eyes linger on the simple design of clothing and Keith unconsciously lifts a hand and runs his fingertips cautiously against the firm material. Flashes of repressed memories mingle in his head, making him abruptly choke on spit.

Snatching his hand away like he had touched a nettle leaf, Keith snaps back into consciousness by the loud _BANG_ of the wardrobe door shutting. Both hands press into the carved wood as he leans his weight into his stretched arms.

He feels his chest heaving; his throat burning as puffs of warm air gush out of his mouth like a dragon spewing smouldering streams of smoke through their large nostrils.

A hand sharply slaps onto his chest and Keith feels the rapid beating of his poor heart hammer against his clammy palm. It reminds him of a drummer forcefully smacking their hands down upon an African drum; each hit more powerful than the last.

His blinks are dazed and his lean body is overcome by bone-rattling shakes. Fine hairs stand up on his pale arms, frozen into place and litters of goosebumps cascade all over his entire body; an icy chill shoots down his spine as a cold sweat waterfalls the back of his neck.

His head is amiss; a lost being caught in the middle of a thick blanket of dense fog surrounding them with vengeance, cackling at their misfortune.

His thoughts are a runaway train; picking up tremendous speed that is too much to overpower, ultimately derailing into a tarnished pile of rubble and clutter.

Shoulders shaking like an earthquake; knees weak, arms are heavy, Keith slumps down onto the floor; his head tucks between his knees and his arms coil around his thin waist. The ends of his locks graze against the dirty carpet like a child's finger brushing against a flowers' fragile petals as they skip through a field of daises.

All Keith wants is comfort; some desirable reassurance and despite his abundance of caring as to not awake Shiro, deep down he selfishly requests for a warm embrace of love.

**"No one would ever want to help you fix your mistakes."**

_"......."_

**"In fact, you're the biggest mistake that has ever happened."**

_"......."_

**"You're a joke; the definition of the lack of will to live; to prosper; to rise."**

_"......."_

**"In the end, you're NOTHING."**

_"......."_

**"You'll always be a NOTHING."**   
  


*******   
  


_'Why the fuck did I agree to do this?!'_

Currently situated at a small sitting area, Keith finds himself grudgingly seated on a grey bistro chair with a top-notch fine bone China tea set accommodated by a clear cupcake stand holding flavoursome, fruity scones lightly dusted with a sheet of sweet, powdered sugar; a small, tasty selection of jams filling miniature jars and an artery-clogging scoop of clotted cream overloading a matte latte bowl.

An exquisite lawn stretches out like the deep blue ocean; the summer sun gleaming down upon greener-than-green grass, it's radiating rays of light reflecting off the droplets of water glistening the tops of green shards creating a moonstone gloss through the landscape.

Shifting his feet, the scratchy feeling of white gravel shuffles underneath the rubber soles of his merino wool trainers, emitting tenuous _CRUNCH_ after _CRUNCH_ as Keith forces himself to keep focus on his unwanted company.

"This tea set is absolutely stunning. They really have spoilt us, haven't they?"

Keith blinks as he pulls his attention to Lance's direct question. Clearing his throat, he quickly answers, "they sure have."

A corner of Lance's lips pulls up and he steadily picks up the delicate teacup and cups his hands around the polished pottery.

"A Royal Albert Old Country Roses Bone China tea set." He babbles, inspecting the cup's finely painted floral design.

Keith rolls his eyes and swirls the golden liquid inside his cup; eyes following a tiny whirlpool spin in the centre.

A sly grin creeps over Lance's face and slowly, he twirls a vintage teaspoon; the metallic stem brushing the rim of the cup. He continues as Keith is in the process of taking a decent sip, "apparently, if this tea set is extensive, can reach up to thirteen hundred dollars."

Keith's reaction is exactly what Lance planned.

Eyes blown with shock, Lance stifles bubbles of laughter as Keith snorts the steaming beverage into his nose and begins to sputter raspy coughs. He pinches the bridge of his scorching nose while desperately grabbing ahold of a linen napkin before bringing it up his face.

Tears glistening along the waterlines, Keith gawks at Lance. "You're kidding, right?" He sputters, wiping his nose in the soft napkin. Never, not in a million years, would a single tea set cost _that_ much. If so, then what the fuck is wrong with the world?!

Lance hides his smirk behind the raised rim of his cup and swallows a meager sip while holding out his pinky. Basking in amusement, Lance simply shrugs his shoulders. Keith glances wordlessly at the moulded ceramic resting on top of its saucer in front of him. Suddenly, he feels the need to straighten his posture as if the teacup's price tag somehow became intimidating, as stupid as it sounds.

Just the thought of that scares Keith. _'What the fuck?! Why am I unnerved by an insignificant thing? God, I sound so pathetic! I need to switch up the convo before I lose my shit.'_

"So, Lance" he begins, "I didn't know you could play tennis."

"I can say the same thing for you. Growing up, _mis padres_ always tried to spend enough time with me, my brothers and sisters. We would play different sports and get involved in different activities, like arts and crafts at the local community,"

Keith didn't intend for this conversation to get personal, but watching Lance talk about his childhood, the joy the memories brought made him sit and listen.

It almost made him feel...... _warm_....

"Heck, at one point _mi abuela_ , who lives on a small farm tried to get me and my twin sister, Rachel, to milk some dairy cows. To this day, she still won't forgive us for the mess we made from tipping all the milk out of the buckets over each other. We were only eight."

Out of nowhere, light chuckles fall out of Keith's mouth and he feels a pressure applied under his chin. Looking down, he's shocked to find his chin resting in his hand. As he pulls back, a raise of Lance's eyebrow makes Keith sweat cold.

"M-my back's hurting."

 _'What fucking lame excuse is that?!'_ he panically thinks, _'I'm so fucking pathetic. Someone please put me out of my misery.'_

Lance, seeing Keith's face morph into a portrait of poorly hidden panic, lets out soft giggles. At the sound of this, Keith looks up and like a wildfire, bursts of red glow his cheeks, light up his nose and burn the tops of his ears. Anger or embarrassment - he can't decide.

To his utmost relief, Lance takes back control of the conversation and instead says, "anyway, its too bad Shiro couldn't join. He's so busy with work and wedding preparations, but at least he's happy."

"He literally walked- well more-so _dragged_ himself to his bedroom looking like a zombie a couple of nights ago." Keith jokes.

"Bless him." Lance pouts.

"Besides, Shiro doesn't know how to hold a tennis racket."

"Oh that's funny," Lance ponders "just a couple of months ago, I introduced him to the sport and boy, did he pick up all the basics quite quickly. Smart guy - must come natural. He really enjoyed it."

A frown scrunches Keith's face like a squeezed stress-ball. Never has Shiro mentioned anything about tennis or relations of that matter. This puzzles him. Why did Shiro never tell him? Why keep it a secret? This is the exact same thing he did with his change of work. Something fills the pit of Keith's heart, weighing it down like lead.

"W-well at least _we_ got to spend some time together."

"I know, right?"

Immediately after, a rainfall of awkwardness pours over the two men as they avoid each other's sight; wiggling their ass in their seats and twiddling thumbs. Bystanders, just by looking at them, can instantly tell neither wanted to be in the other's presence.  
  


***  
  


Sport is a challenge, kill or be killed. An event where the playing surface is a battle zone - no man's land. Where the audience is praying and shedding tears, the rhythmic bounce of legs and the chewing of bottom lips or pruning thumbs.

The sheep's skin is thrown aside. Like two wolves hungry for dominance, Keith and Lance glare daggers into each other's eyes, the tip of the sharpened blade piercing their souls. This was going to be a battle out for blood and the breaking of egos.

In the blue corner, our favourite cool, ninja sharpshooter, Lance McClain and his partner, with a body young and fit like she works out at the gym 24/7, is Paige Plaxum. Two strong players with a few tricks up their sleeves - they're a force to be reckoned with.

In the red corner, our socially awkward, fireball emo, Keith Kogane and his partner, who eats more calories than the daily required and probably a little more, is Bruce Blumfump. Two very unstable players: one lacking teamwork skills, the other already out of breath. They're..... a force to avoid.

With everyone in position, the game begins.

Cries of fury and sweat dripping down their faces, the court is alight. Like fire and ice, the two enemies smack the ball, primarily targeting each other as to see who would crack under pressure and surrender. Who would leave defeated and who would leave triumphant.

All aspects of a friendly game are thrown out of the window as a raging battle takes place. When Keith swings his racket, the loud THWUMP of strings hitting ball ricochets and the impact of power sends the ball rocketing over the net and directly into Lance's arm.

In slow motion, Lance grabs his arm as his face morphs into a picture of pain. Keith smirks and fist pumps the air, a devilish grin painting his lips.

The game continues and each shot is more wild and powerful than the next. Their partners try to work with them, but are unfortunately caught in the middle of the raging rivalry.

Lance runs up to the servers line after Bruce hits the ball up, sending it flying high into the sky and making the perfect line up for a smash. At the perfect moment, he collides the racket into the spinning ball and whacks it directly into Keith's crotch.

A _balls_ -eye.

Keith's eyes roll into the back of his head and his racket drops to the concrete floor as his hands cover his crotch. Like a fallen soldier, he falls to his knees while Lance jumps for joy.

After reviving his swollen sacks, all thanks to a refreshing ice pack, the players continue hitting the ball. Poor, old Bruce embarrassingly misses a shot that lands next to his feet and his huffs and puffs are caught in his throat when Keith practically pounces in front of him and venomously snaps, "get your shit together, Bruce."

This game of tennis was not one where players laughed with one another or shake off a mistake with humour. This is one where two players try to strangle each other and use the equipment to injure their rival. It was like a bloodshed between two rabid wolves. It was actually quite unsettling, yet strangely entertaining.

It was match that beat records of duration and injuries. Ball-sized bruises mixed with purple and blue puncture different body parts on Keith and Lance.

To Paige and Bruces' relief, the hour slot of playing ends and they quickly run away to avoid the obvious sparks of hate firing off the two rivals like a tommy gun spraying bullets.

Lance and Keith loathed each other's guts, but one thing for sure - neither was willing to fall and kiss the boots. To throw in the towel. To wave the white flag.

The real game has only just begun.....  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After i finished the last chapter, I hit a brick wall. 
> 
> I don't want this sound like an excuse or go into too much detail, but unfortunately, i suffer from anxiety attacks and severe depression. This has been going for the last year and a half, and lately, it has gotten worse. As a writer, I struggle with the beginning of chapters as I don't know what to write down. I want it to sound good and catchy, but when the bad thoughts kick off in my head, it becomes a huge distraction and ultimately, makes me not want to write a single word.
> 
> It's a difficult task waking up most mornings and feeling like shit. You feel useless and pathetic and whatever you do, never feels good enough. I pray and hope to God, you guys don't feel like I do because its destructive and damages you physically, mentally and emotionally. 
> 
> Last week i went on vacation with my family, and despite enjoying time with my family, i had a few anxiety/panic attacks because of going out to public gatherings with the whole COVID-19 virus, and just in general. 
> 
> But thanks to your views, your kudos and your comments, they are what make me feel so much better in person and gives me the motivation to write. So a BIG thank you to all you readers.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and stay safe. 
> 
> Thank you so much.


	8. Grill-iant Mexico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith loathed each other's guts, but one thing for sure - neither was willing to fall and kiss the boots. To throw in the towel. To wave the white flag.
> 
> The real game has only just begun.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2AM in the morning and its about time this update is needed.  
> There is a mix of Keith and Non-one POV's in this chapter.  
> End notes are IMPORTANT so please read them after finishing this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Keith's POV_

_'If this steaming mug of black coffee, loaded to the brim with sugar that increases my chance of becoming diabetic does not wake me up, I don't know what the fuck will._ '

Another day gone, another day arrives and nobody has a single clue what the fuck could happen to them in the next twenty-four of their lives. Some wake up feeling bright and happy; others roll off the wrong side of the bed. Me?

I do what I do every morning. I wake up to the lovely sound of cars honking and drivers yelling curses out their window. The blissful vowels and consonants of "FUCK YOU!", or "CRAZY DRIVER!" and maybe the odd "TAXI!" really gets me up and outta bed.

Why buy an alarm when one's already installed and free of charge? Now that's what I call a bargain.

I then stretch my arms and my heels raise off the floor as I reach for the sky. _POPS_ and _CRACKS_ loosen my joints and readers, when I tell you I feel ten years younger, I fucking feel ten years younger.

I let out the usual loud yawn, emitting a cloud of morning breath and I begin my short walk to the bathroom. When I empty my bladder that's practically swelled up like a balloon, but with piss, it feels like heaven. I flush the toilet and proceed to the normality of my morning routine.

I take a navy shower consisting a bottle of cheap shampoo and a bar of soap. With a hairdryer that has seen better days, I dry my hair and brush out any knots. I get dressed and have breakfast.

A bowl of fruity pebbles - good.

Smoked bacon sandwich with ketchup - good.

Stack of pancakes with syrup - _good_.

And finally, I patiently wait for whatever shit today's gonna throw at me with a smile on my face. The end.

But not today as this morning, as I'm sipping down my third cup of brewed caffeine with bags on top of bags under my eyes, I stare lost and exhausted at my computer screen, silently watching my mom happily ramble on about her life wearing a full set of makeup and wide awake at 7am on a Sunday morning.

"Keith, are you listening?"

A yawn escapes midway as I reply, "to you rambling on about shit that bores me? Nope."

My mom scoffs. "Clearly you're not any different when you were a kid - still not an early bird I see."

"Yep, and still wanting to go back to bed and drop dead." For that brief fleeting moment, I am truly at ease with the world.

"Anyhow, how was the engagement party last week? I still feel bad not attending."

To be honest, I wasn't surprised she felt like that. Living with my mom as I matured into an adult, I picked up on something a lot of people didn't. Not gonna lie, she is a very intimidating woman - built with a muscular figure and a face that makes you think twice, she is a woman who means business and from experience firsthand, does not tolerate shit.

However, underneath that facade, she is the definition of a mama bear with a very big heart. She is genuinely a caring person and would also make me feel loved and happy whenever I came home from school sporting a black eye or tears running down my cheeks after a beat-up from bullies. She is the best and even facing extremely tough times, she fought through and stayed strong despite having her heart broken. I know that being by her side made us pull through together and while old wounds reopen, we're always there to heal them - that's what makes us strong and I could never ask for a better mother.

I feel like crying now, but I'll keep those tears plugged and continue to engage in our conversation..... well, _try_ to as I feel fucking dead. This third round of coffee is not doing anything, in fact I feel more shit. Fucking insomnia.

"Mom, how many times? Shiro perfectly understood and I was fine. The party was.....great."

I should've never hesitated because my mom picked it up like a fly sniffing out dog's shit.

"Just great?" She questions.

I shrug and instinctively avert my eyes. This goddamn habit, whenever I'm holding in something, raises my mom's curiosity. " _Keeeith_?"

I crack under her stern face. "Okay, okay. I met the other groomsmen at the party, and there's this one..... _guy_ who I REALLY, REALLY don't like."

"You mean you have a crush on but don't want to admit it?"

"What?! No!" I bark and embarrassingly enough, my voice hits a very high octave. I loudly clear my throat before continuing, "Mom I promise you, whatever gay hypothesis you've got going on inside your head - FORGET IT."

But like I pointed beforehand, she don't take shit and with an unamused expression, she stares straight into my soul sitting still and quiet. Not the best combination, especially if it comes from your mother like mine who happens to know you're gay.

"Y'know what Keith? I'm gonna give you some useful advice. From mother to son."

"And what would that be?"

"Cut the bullshit." _SEE?! She's fucking brutal!_

"I learnt from past experiences," she continues "that you always hid your liking of a boy by covering it with false hate and distaste for said person. In other words, you’re a pussy."

"NO I AM NOT! It doesn't matter how silky his hair or how smooth his mocha skin looks, nor that stupid smile he flashes to show off his perfectly straight teeth. His hands warm and soft; his eyes a stunning blue it makes me feel......" I loose my voice, words disintegrating in my throat as Lance's figure appears in my head.

_'WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!'_

Side-glancing to the computer screen, a sly grin pulls at my mom's plump lips and a mischievous shine inhabits her eyes.

"Angry. Really angry. His annoying presence makes me want to punch that stupid smile off his face."

"Wow, sounds like you _really_ don't like him." She deadpans.

"I'm telling the truth!"

Pushing her arms out in an overhead stretch, a long sigh flows out her mouth and she locks eyes with me as she lowers her arms to her side and reframes her posture.

"If you say so. Shit!" She curses after she looks at her watch, "I never knew it was that time. Look Keith, I've got a table booked with Kolivan in the next hour to discuss business. Sorry I've had to cut this short - wish I could talk more."

"Don't apologise. I've got to go out with some acquaintances later on. Talk to you soon."

"Sure thing." I move the mouse to drag the arrow on button to end the call but I'm suddenly stopped by my name been called out.

"Yeah?" I reply.

A small yet loving smile appears on my mom's face and locking sight, she says in a tender voice "I love you."

Three little words; three simple syllables which hold the most emotion unearthed from the deep roots of someone's heart. Unfortunately, it's three words I've also heard with spite and lust.

But, out of all the people who have told me "I love you", it hurts to remember this one person who meant the world to me....

Breathing in a shallow breath, I try to keep my focus on my mom to ignore the aching in my heart and the tears filling their tear ducts.

"Y-yeah. L-love you too."

***

"Where the fuck have you brought us?"

I grimace at Pidge's question I knew didn't take any brain cells to formulate. To be honest, I'm not surprised by his reaction. This is Pidge we're talking about.

"It's not as bad as you think." I try to persuade, choosing my words wisely. Immediately after I speak, I feel everyone's heads turn to me and I suddenly find myself stuck in the mud. Very deep mud.

"Not as bad?" Pidge questions, turning to face the architect culprit, "I'm looking at a pile shit that has been shat out of Satan's ass."

As much as I want to disagree, I really fucking can't. Opening my iPhone, I look at the "photo" of a clean and inviting exterior. Yet, I know when I look at the building it's not the case. Smashed windows poorly fixed with duct tape and a big red door I can only guess was originally installed as the back-door of a night club; dirty, brick walls and a cracked, tiled roof caked in bird shit stands before us.

I start to consider we're at the wrong place, but the location and restaurant's name is the exact same as the (now clearly fake) photo's details. Now I understand why people avoid rundown areas.

Like a knight in shinning armour, Shiro comes to my aid. "Keith always brings me to shabby places, and each time I'm surprised by the good quality of food and service they offer. I trust Keith and talking of food, I'm starving."

"My mother always said ' _never judge a book by its cover_ ', so I'm gonna give this restaurant a chance. Also, I haven't been to a Mexican cuisine in a long time and boy, have I missed tacos." Hunk beams and I smile at his helpful remark.

Matt shrugs his shoulders and steps forward. "Then what the hell are we still doing here, looking like a bunch of idiots? I don't know about you guys, but I need food in my stomach or else I'm gonna die."

 _'A little exaggerated, but thanks Matt.'_ I think gratefully and I watch everyone begin walking to the entrance. Well, nearly everyone.....

I turn to the left when I hear a small gasp. With a frown of shock and distress, Lance is standing on one leg like a flamingo as he stares down at the floor. I catch a glimpse of a long, hairless tail and small paws scurrying away from him.

I smirk. "I would be careful where you step."

"I'm always careful, thank you very much. They don't call me the cool, ninja sharpshooter for nothing." Lance scoffs, brows knitted. I huff and walk towards the restaurant.

I slyly throw over my shoulder, "very well sharpshooter. Guess I don't need to warn you're standing in rat droppings."

"WHAT?!" Lance shrieks and he jumps into the air like a scaredy-cat.

I stifle the laughter building up within me and continue onwards while Lance's whines filter the air behind me.

***

_No-one's POV_

Considering this establishment sells Mexican food, it looked awfully a lot like the British and Italian had sex and the rest is history. Besides the odd deco, Keith was pleased that it looked much better inside than out. At least something was okay about this place.

Everyone is comfortably seated around a table: Shiro between Keith and Matt, and on the other side sits Hunk with Lance and Pidge either side. Conversations flow across the table and surprisingly, Keith finds himself making small talk with the other groomsmen. For once, he didn't need help from Shiro to keep a single conversation on track.

A steady thirty minutes had flew by and each passing minute, Keith slowly relaxed and lowered his walls. Laughter spewed out of the group when Matt told embarrassing stories of Pidge, who did the same thing back. Hunk exchanged memories of his family and how cooking always kept his family close to one another.

At one point, Keith was shocked when he heard Hunk tell everyone that he and Lance were best friends since childhood after they became pen pals. Every summer, one would fly out to stay with them and their family and spend their vacation there. It had continued throughout middle and high school until finally, both friends had enrolled at the same university in America. It further shocked Keith when Hunk revealed they met Pidge in university.

"....and so began the famous Garrison trio." Hunk finishes with the biggest smile Keith has ever seen.

 _'Small world'_ Keith thinks as he watches the three close friends laugh.

"You said it buddy." Lance comments wrapping an arm around Hunk's shoulders.

"Damn right." Pidge chimes in, following Lance's actions.

Looking at the friends cling to one another, it was no doubt in Keith's mind that somehow this trio are the perfect blend of friendship. The smiles, the laughs, the hugs - everything was plain true. To Keith's confusion, he could feel something bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His heart felt like a lasso had wrapped around and was pulling it towards the trio across the table.

Did he dare say he was...... _jealous?_

In retrospect, Keith never had friends growing up. Deep down, he was always lonely - not having someone to talk to; to share secrets and create fun memories with to later share with his own kids and grandchildren. Keith would never get the chance to do that and just by looking at Lance, Pidge and Hunk smile and laugh with each other made Keith's heart sink a little.

Yes, he had Shiro and Adam and Acxa by his side, but knowing what the three friends sitting across from him had years prior - it is one thing Keith now yearns for.

"Hola Señores!"

All heads turn to face a chunky, thick bearded waiter with his arms open. Behind him, stand other waiters holding absurd amounts of food.

"It is my pleasure to give you our special: Extravaganza mexicana!"

Everyone's mouths are watering as the table is piled high of plates and bowls carrying a wide range of Mexican food and dips.

Tacos and enchiladas dripping in grease and topped with a colourful bomb of vegetables and tomato salsa. Large bowls overfilling with Chilli Con Carne and scoops of Guacamole in dip bowls spread out around the table, filling any small gaps between the other large dishes. Crisp and golden-baked nacho chips circle around a dome of Mexican yoghurt dip and mountains of burritos bulging with cooked beef smothered in sauce line up along the plates like overweight soldiers.

It truly was a food fiesta.

"Alright! Time to dig in!" Matt exclaims cheerily and everyone scampers to fill their plates with fatty, greasy food.

"I may be small but you're going DOWN burrito!" Pidge declares before shoving his face into the food held in his hands.

Keith chuckles when Pidge pulls back his face smudged with sauce. Shiro rolls his eyes at the man's childish antics, but a small grin appears on his face.

"Wow! This food is delicious. The tangy flavour of the sauce really compliments the chewy, yet flavoursome seasoning of meat." Hunk points out.

Pidge unceremoniously stuffs his face once more and takes a huge bite of food; cheeks round like a greedy hamster shovelling nuts. "Less talking, more eating."

Something draws Shiro to look ahead. "Lance, aren't you going to have some?"

Attention caught, Keith swaps his gaze over to said person. Fork picking at the dull salad littered onto his plate, Lance forces a smile. "It's not that I don't like it. Before any fitting, I don't eat a big meal - makes me feel bloated."

"Well, your loss there pal." Pidge says after swallowing his food.

"Yeah," Matt chimes in "its not that bad Lance. Just have some nachos or something. That ain't too heavy."

Lance waves him off. "Nope, no no no. I'm good, thank you." Keith and Pidge shrug their shoulders, then reach for some nachos in the centre of the table.

"More food for us." They say in sync. Likewise, they snap their attention to each other, surprise written all over their faces.

Pidge takes Keith's pause to hurriedly grab a large handful of nachos and shove them into his gob. It snaps Keith back into reality and he barks, "Hey! Those were mine!"

He shakes his head. "Uh-uh." His words muffled by the food squashed inside his mouth.

Hunk wipes his mouth. "I don't know about you guys, but I physically don't bloat."

Matt looks over to Hunk. "You're kidding?"

"It's the truth."

"Lucky bastard."

"Language."

***

_Keith's POV_

I've been sitting surprisingly comfortable throughout the meal so far.

While I'll admit I haven't engaged in a lot of the conservations passed back and forth across the table - which was expected - I am surprised at how well I've managed to stay awake. Not just because I woke up extremely early this morning (thanks mom), but mainly how I've been silently interested in the numerous chit-chatting going on.

The other groomsmen had more exciting and hysterical stories to share, and though I did not speak as much, I did drop in a few words. Preferably, I like listening to others speak than actually speaking myself. A lot of the conversations were about them growing up and their ambitions. Sadly, I didn't have the best childhood - well, I sorta did but not as great as the others. I'm far off that.

Also, I didn't want to tell them about the failure of my art gallery and studio as I'm still saddened by it. Luckily Shiro knew how sensitive I was whenever my current life is brought into questioning, so he politely told the guys to change the subject and from the looks given, they instantly understood.

"Okay, now that Shiro's gone," I start as soon Shiro disappears around the corner to go to the toilet "I have an idea for the shower."

All eyes fall on me with curiosity and I take it as the perfect opportunity to continue. "See, Shiro has always wanted to go to Paris. It's been his dream holiday for his entire life, but he's never had the chance to go. So I was thinking, maybe we could bring Paris to him. Y'know, like a Parisian theme. I'm probably going over-the-top but like a cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower, French design tableware, heck even a cookie saying 'To Shiro and Adam'. What do you guys think?"

Silence - the worst thing that could ever happen.

It's tense; it's thick; it's fucking nerve-racking!

_'Oh god have I made a fool of myself?!'_

"Keith." I snap my head to Pidge and immediately, I'm fucking shaking on the inside. His face is emotionless and his striking brown eyes stare straight into mine.

"I don't know where that idea came from or how long it took you to formulate it."

_'Fuck'_

"But I think it's safe to say from a genius like myself..."

_'Oh shit'_

"THAT IS FUCKING GENIUS!" Pidge shouts while leaning over the table and shoving his face close to mine. The chair I'm sitting on skids a little against the mosaic floor as I nearly fall off in pure surprise.

"That's one of the most brilliant ideas I've ever heard. Shiro will love that." Hunk preaches; a giant smile beaming off his face.

"Nice one Keith." Matt says and he throws a big thumbs up.

For once, I've never felt this proud of myself. Finally, in the long run, I've managed to say something good, not stupid or explosive. That's a fat 0 for depression and a lucky 1 for-

"Hmm, I'm not so sure."

_'Are you fucking kidding me right now?'_

Turning, I lock eyes with Lance who nibbles his bottom lip. I may or may not have stared his lip-nibbling a little more than I should've - no feelings at all.

"Why's that Lance?" I ask him, a little anger dusting my voice. I've just said something all the other guys agreed with and I'm not gonna let this nincompoop ruin this victory.

Lance fiddles with the edge of a tablecloth. "It's a great idea, mullet. But I've done a few French/Parisian theme showers, plus weddings before and I just think, from experience, that they're too common. I get the impression 'been there, done that' off that theme." He looks up and deliberately avoids my glare by looking at the others, "maybe we should go around and say any ideas we have in mind."

I knew that wasn't a suggestion; it was declaration. That sly son of a bitch.

Hunk's face lights up. "How about a space theme? We could decorate the room with light-up-in-the-dark stars and planets. That would be pretty cool."

"Fuck that," Matt intervenes "it sounds like I'm attending a preschoolers's birthday party. We want something dramatic; bold; INVENTIVE! SOMETHING OUTTA THIS FUCKING WORLD! I'm thinking: anime."

Pidge gawks at him. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Wh- of course I am!" He yelps "we dress up in cosplay of our favourite character and we have a competition to see who has the best and most realistic costume in the lobby."

"You're only saying that because it's the only thing you're good at. So sorry about this asshole, just ignore him. Anyway, forget about the shower. My concern is the stag-do. I wanna feel fucked in the head that night, so we've gotta find the best and strongest alcohol and line them bitches up. I suffer from a low immunity to alcohol and it's about time I felt the goodness of being drunk."

Lance chuckles and makes eye contact with everyone else. "Remember guys, we want it to be extra extra special for him. Something that he will remember for the rest of his life. Am I right Keith?"

I lock eyes with him and give him a cold stare. "Sure thing Lance. Sure thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really busy with Sixth Form and the amount of work is overwhelming, so I've gotta sort that out.  
> In the meantime, this story will probably be updated in the space of 2-3 weeks. It all depends on the amount of work that's set during the week.  
> Thank god its my last year of Sixth Form and then I'm taking a gap year so I will have plenty of time to write more IF its not completed by the end of Sixth Form.


	9. A Shitty Fitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance chuckles and makes eye contact with everyone else. "Remember guys, we want it to be extra extra special for him. Something that he will remember for the rest of his life. Am I right Keith?"
> 
> I lock eyes with him and give him a cold stare. "Sure thing Lance. Sure thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: EXTREME VOMITING AND EXPOLSIVE DIARRHEA!
> 
> If you have a weak stomach, please skip this chapter. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay. But I think i've made up for that with this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this as this is one of my favourite scene from Bridesmaids. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_No one's POV_

For a Sunday, Keith finds the streets surprisingly busier than the usual. Truth be told, Sunday is the proposition of a lazy day _aka_ birth place of couch potatoes. So Keith questions: why were restaurants tightly-packed of people and the roads jammed with vehicles burping out _HONKS_ and farting clouds of burning fumes?

This particular day of the week is Keith's favourite. No work, no sneaking into yoga classes and no worries about getting awoken by the alarm clock. Complete peace. The perfect opportunity to catch a few more hours of blissful zzz's and not give a flying fuck what the day has to throw at your face.

However, this Sunday introduced a new change for Keith's routine - one he grimly took aboard and now finds himself regretting as he walks alongside his new group of friends down the cracked sidewalk.

Lips glued shut, violet eyes trace the fractures dancing across the hard surface of concrete slabs. His ears wide open, Keith silently listens closely to the exchange of words passing between the other group members.

The angel perched on his shoulder nudges him gently with a white-feathered wing while the red demon sneers and shakes his head. It's an internal battle Keith faces whether or not to engage in the conversations.

The growing urge to join in washes away by a tsunami of anxiety.

_'Would it be rude to cut off someone mid-speaking?'_

_'What if I say something stupid?'_

_'I'll make a fool of myself'_

_'What if I say something that hurts them?'_

_'What if...? What if....?'_

He ultimately chooses to stay at the back of the pack in a bubble of silence. A burst of laughter entices Keith to glance up through his long eyelashes. A broad smile lightens up Shiro's face brighter than the sun. Matt has an arm slung over his shoulder and to his right, stands Lance and Hunk who throw a few words into Shiro and Matt's conversation while having their own.

Pidge walks on Matt's side, his head stuck into the illuminated screen of his Samsung Galaxy S10e and fingers typing in letters at an inhuman speed. Sometimes, he spews a huff or a short hum to signify his engagement in the numerous conversations.

Feeling like a lost puppy, Keith drops his head low and again, the cracks in the sidewalk draw in his attention. No lie, he felt a little stupid - a grown up acting like a shy kid within his group of friends is bound to show his social awkwardness - a weakness he despises.

Lost in his train of thought, Keith doesn't hear everyone gasp sharply and suddenly, his face is smushed as he slams into a mass that feels as solid as a brick wall.

"Oh my- Keith! Are you okay?" Shiro turns to face him, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were behind me."

With a groan, Keith covers his sore nose. "Its okay Shiro. I wasn't looking where I was walking." _Shit, that really hurt_.

Pidge laughs, "I think you're gonna need pins and screws to reconstruct that motherfucker."

"Or a well deserved MRI scan, no doubt for a concussion." Matt jokes.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Keith hisses, unamused. The siblings have the audacity to laugh before turning to the building to the left. Rubbing his nose, Keith follows their gaze and realises why everyone's eyes are sparkling in excitement.

"Lacey Chabert!"Hunk exclaims and he whips his head around to face Keith. "Keith, are you for real?"

Caught off-guard, Keith sheepishly shrugs. "Yeah?"

"One of the best tailoring businesses this world has ever seen." Lance comments openly. Keith frowns, preparing for the spiteful remark to come it's way.

_'Bring it, you hot sack of horse-'_

"Nice thinking mullet." He flashes a toothy smile, shocking Keith. Never, in a million years was that stupid, intoxicating smile the response he was anticipating.

A burning blush ignites his cheeks and an audible crack fills the air when his head snaps the opposite direction. Lance was already enough to handle, but that smile is the cure for cancer Keith thinks.

In an effort to distract himself from gay thoughts, Keith steps up to the chrome double doors but quickly discovers it's locked. An open sign is present on the window, so why was the doors shut?

A buzzer glistens in the gentle rays of sunlight. Eyeing the door, he presses the buzzer's polished button and a frizzle of bell rings pound the small speaker. The skin-tickling, abrupt sound makes Keith grimace in distaste.

A feminine voice quickly answers. "Lacey Chabert. Reservation name please?"

_'The fuck?'_ Keith thinks. A look of puzzlement crosses his face.

"A-a reservation?" He speaks into the mic, leaning unnecessarily close.

"Yes."

Keith swallows a thick lump down his throat. "I-I didn't know about booking reservations. We're just here to try on suits."

"Sorry, the next appointment for fittings isn't available until nine weeks. No walk-ins."

Anger mixed with embarrassment churns in the pit of his stomach. He opens his mouth to bite back, but an arm cuts the air in front of him and shuts him up. Keith watches intensely as Lance moves into the mic and happily greets, "Nyma, it's me Lance."

"Lance?" The voice gasps, excitement growing into her tone. "Lance McClain?"

"Hey beautiful." Lance playfully flirts.

Keith rolls his eyes while wincing at the bright smile once again shaping Lance's lips. _'Wish he said that to me- WAIT WHAT THE FUCK?!'_

"Oh my gosh! Hi!"

"Hi!" Lance squeals back. Behind him, Pidge sticks a finger into his mouth and pretends to gag.

"Hold on, I'll buzz you right in." With that, the mic goes dead. Everyone smiles at Lance who oozes with pride. Keith scoffs and folds his arms tightly, looking anywhere but him.

* * *

"Hello gentlemen. My oh my, aren't you all looking so fine?"

Nyma, is by no exception, a glamorous, tall woman. Her golden blonde hair is pulled perfectly into a French twist. Dressed in a formal light grey skirt suit, the poly-cotton shirt sucks in her tiny waist. A couple of clear buttons are slightly strained over her chest that pushes against the thin fabric. The skirt perfectly hugs her petite hips and ass, with slim legs sculptured with sexy proportions. With light blue eyeshadow and glossy pink lips, the small touches of cosmetics create a natural look.

A goddess.

The group is blown away by the massive display of charismatic suits hung openly along all sides of the room. In the centre, an ivory Henbury Chesterfield sofa sits clean and empty. Above hangs a sparkling, diamanté chandelier. The floor is carpet white; walls covered in strips of light grey wallpaper.

Keith is immediately unsettled by the pristine interior. No hate, it seemed a bit....much. Yes it's safe to say any business wants a clean, crisp interior to capture potential customers but this was A LOT to take in, even for Keith's artistic eye.

"Wow." Shiro breathes, amazement plastered on his face like a billboard.

Matt's eyes are blown wide; his jaw gaping. "This is amazing."

Pidge, however, looks bored and rubs an eye. "It's hurting my eyes."

Standing proud on the lowered floor, Nyma eyes the group and welcomes them with open arms. "Welcome to Lacey Chabert, gentlemen."

Hunk places his hands on his hips and gazes over the lounge. An impressed smile spreads on his face. "I've never seen something so classy- ** _BURRRRP_**!"

Everyone jumps at the sharp and loud belch that leaves Hunk's mouth. Immediately, Hunk whips a hand over his mouth and his cheeks burn a bright red; brown eyes wide - no doubt embarrassed by this rude expel of gas.

"Fucking hell Hunk." Pidge seethes, face twisted in disgust. Said person frantically looks to and fro his friends and Nyma.

"I-I'm so, so sorry," he apologises, removing his hand "I didn't know that was going to happen. Heck, I'm not even sure which end that came out of."

Gawking at his friend a couple of seconds longer, Shiro shakes his head and looks to Nyma.

"Back to you, Nyma."

Nervously chuckling, Nyma clears her throat and brings forth a forced smile. "Anyway, have a look around and please, take as long as you want. If you need anything, I'll just be around the corner."

She bows her head and quickly snatches another glance at Hunk before walking away and closing the office door behind her. Like a kid in a candy store, Matt sprints away from the group and starts to play with different coloured top-hats off a standing coat rack. Pidge soon joins him, but quickly catches eye on the rack of walking sticks.

Meanwhile, the other four stay close together and descend deeper into the shop. Shiro walks a little further than the rest; Keith the complete opposite. Standing in a new environment, its not by choice he's a little tense and on edge. Uncharted land can never be good at times and for some reason, Keith feels a rolling sensation in his stomach - something else he's always took into account whenever something doesn't feel right or the unthinkable is going to happen.

"Oh. My. Gosh."

Keith turns to look at Lance who looks utterly mind blown; a hand splayed over his chest. "What's the matter Lance?" Shiro asks. Lance, for the meantime says nothing, instead hurriedly scrambles over to a dressmaking mannequin. The two brothers follow him. 

"No frigging way." He whispers in astonishment. Lance whips his head over his shoulder and calls, "Pidge! Matt! Get your asses over here. You need to see this."

Under his breath, Shiro mutters "language", but nobody pays any attention. Keith looks at the mannequin. A suit is fitted onto it and fucking hell it looks expensive.

The shuffle of feet make Keith glance to his right, then double take. The Holt siblings look absolutely ridiculous. A skyscraper of top-hats rest atop of Matt's head, while Pidge holds two walking sticks like ski poles and wears a vintage eyepatch.

_'Where the fuck did he find an eyepatch?'_

"It's a Dolce & Gabbana. Guys, I don't know if we're gonna be able to top this one."

As the other groomsmen, plus bridegroom, ogle at the jacquard jacket, Keith looms over the back of it and successfully finds its price tag. Taking ahold, he flips it over and is immediately stunned.

He taps Lance's shoulder, the others too busy to take notice. "Hey Lance. This is- this is $1,000." He tells him in a hushed tone.

Lance's jaw drops. "You're kidding?"

Keith shakes his head and shows Lance the price, pointing at it. Lance gasps aloud and excitedly turns to the rest. "It's on sale!"

Keith's jaw drops and his eyes grow wide.

"What?!" He breathes in shock as everyone else start to get even more excited and hog up any remaining space to examine the tuxedo much closer.

Keith slowly backs away and eyes the rest of store. If that suit was on sale for that price, my god was Keith overwhelmed to see zeros flash in his head like a slot machine.

Taking another glance at the suit, Keith spins around and rushes up the nearest open display of suits. Rashly sliding aside suit after suit, metal scraping against metal, he basks in the rich texture and colour of the fabric which all looks very expensive.

His eyes land on a grey, three piece suit with black buttons and luckily, an affordable price. He breathes a sigh of relief then pulls it off the rail. "Hey Shiro. Shiro!"

At the call of his name, Shiro turns around and fixes his attention onto Keith, the others following suit. Keith holds the simple outfit in front of him. "What do you think about this one?"

"Its very nice Keith." Shiro comments with a small smile.

Unbeknownst to Keith, Lance steals a peek at Shiro then focuses back onto him. Keith relishes in Shiro's attention and continues, "Its simple. Its formal. I mean, it'll be wrong for us to upstage Shiro at his _own_ wedding, so..."

Shiro chuckles and wags a finger in the air. Keith's smile drops into a soft frown, confusion growing. "Its okay Keith, you won't have to worry about that _because,_ " eyeing Lance "guess who's friends with Lance and the CEO of what company?"

The arm hoisting the outfit drops slightly as Keith looks on at Shiro, watching his cheeky grin enlarge. "Antonio De Matteis of Kiton. I've just sent my measurements to Italy y'all!"

Instantly Matt, Hunk, Shiro and Lance all burst into an explosion of chatter with Pidge rolling his eyes and moving away from the group to the sofa.

On the opposite side, stands Keith frozen and stung. The hem of the jacket scrapes across the floor as his arm loses its strength. Watching the guys chatter and have a fun time without him makes him swallow a bulbous ball in his throat, but it's not enough to dim the rising anger.

"Fine gentlemen," Lance giddily silences them "may I remind you we have the entire shop to ourselves. Pick out any suit you like and let's decide then."

Like a flock of pigeons, the party disperse and soon, only Lance and Keith are left in the middle of the lounge. They lock eyes and the air around them turns cold. Keith huffs and hides his snarl by looking at the rack of suits with his back facing Lance. To make matters worse, a small drop of sweat runs down his forehead and he angrily wipes it away.

Unlike everyone else, Pidge is fixated on the sofa. He runs his fingers over the padded linen headboard. "Nice." He says before stepping away. Inhaling deep and exhaling long, determination fills his face and he runs up to the sofa and jumps over the board like a hurdle.

Body splaying over the two of three cushions, Pidge crosses his arms behind his head and with a content sigh, closes his eyes.

A low gurgle bounces around his stomach and he puts a hand over to quiet it.

* * *

After searching high and low, including tailors taking several measurements, the groomsmen huddle together once again in the lounge. There was only one slight problem - each one is wearing a very different outfit. Standing ahead is Nyma who takes in all the glory and glamour of the outfits. Her hands are clasped together and a genuine smile sketches her lips.

"Gosh, don't you all look handsome?" She complements.

Hunk attempts to smile at her compliment, but a beet-red shade covers his face and he looks mildly uncomfortable.

Lance winks cheekily and shoots finger-guns. Nyma giggles at the flirty and overconfident gesture.

"I love each and everyone's pick but unfortunately, we have to come to a final decision."

Lance laughs and steps up to the plate. "Well, I thinks it's safe to say that my suit is the best - no hate, I do like all your styles and taste but," he starts twirl and flash flirtatious looks into the humongous mirror "it's a Dolce & Gabbana. It's just beautiful. It's stunning. It's perfection, ladies and gentlemen."

Nyma nods her head enthusiastically. "Completely."

"That's right gorgeous." Lance says and with a final dramatic spin, he walks back into the line of men with an overconfident grin.

Keith isn't eating this bullshit. "Actually Lance, I have something to say if you don't mind."

Lance places a hand on his hip and bites back his irritation. "Not at all-"

"Thank you," Keith cuts him off "see I like my choice as well. It's simple. It's a great colour, great length. You can also move around in it easily."

He splits his legs and bounces side to side lightly. "Spread your legs apart with no hassle."

Matt looks impressed and he turns to Lance and gives him a quick thumbs up. Lance scoffs and crosses his arms as Keith continues to give his brief.

"It's fun, quirky, has a great price and it's a _perfect_ outfit." He finishes with a stern glare at Lance, who's face hardens.

"Whatever you say mullet." He grumbles.

Nyma claps her hands, breaking the tension. "Okay. I know the perfect way to resolve this situation. While you guys were being fitted, I found a Ralph Lauren _handmade_ tailcoat tuxedo in the back and had Shiro put it on. So let's see which suit contrasts best. Ladies, bring him in!"

All at once, the groomsmen start to get excited and the soft thudding of feet only excites them more. A shadow looms over the white carpet before it's replaced by a certain someone standing in its place.

Everyone's jaw drops.

Basking in slim fit perfection and beauty, strides in Shiro with the biggest smile on his face. The broadness of his shoulders and narrow hips mould the soft fabric to his body like a second skin. His dark brown shoes are polished squeaky clean you can use it as a mirror. Trousers pitch black it strikingly matches the crystal white of the jersey shirt tucked and sucked in securely by a black belt; it's bronze buckle shinning in the chandelier light. It's complete with a plain, white bow tie.

"Oh my god Shiro."

"Wow."

"HO-LY SHIT! You're so hot. Is it hot in here?"

"You look breathtaking."

"Yeah, so beautiful it makes my stomach hurt."

Shiro sheepishly shrugs and smiles at his friends' warm compliments. "So, it's a yes or a _yes_?"

Pidge fans himself, looking a little red. "It's a big, fat YES! Christ it's like an oven in here."

Matt nods at his little brother's comment. "It's a little hot."

Keith ignores the siblings, too captivated by his older brother. A warm feeling flourishes in his heart and he feels the buildup of tears.

Pushing them back he speaks in a shaky voice, "Shiro, I- I don't know what to say."

His brother softly smiles at him as he hears the slight quiver in his voice. Next to him, Lance silently watches Keith lose his guard and lower his walls to this special occasion. He says nothing, but the corners of his lips lift somewhat. Unconsciously, his hand moves near Keith's; fingers twitching in anticipation.

Just as his fingertips graze against Keith's pale skin, it's abruptly pulled back when Hunk suddenly lurches with a loud, " ** _BARRF_**!"

Silence rains down onto the group and all attention is pulled to Hunk. The poor guy has a hand clasped over his mouth and his cheeks are puffy and alarmingly flushed.

"Hunk, you okay there buddy?" Lance asks concerned. Hunk nods and goes to pull away his hand, but keeps it close as another, yet sharper " ** _BARRF_**!" rips out of his throat.

"O-oh my god." Nyma gasps, no doubt alarmed.

Pidge grunts and places a hand over his midsection. Gurgles and rumbles roll aloud in his stomach and his face is pulled inward with his teeth gritting. His posture is slightly leaning.

Hunk cautiously lowers his hand before placing both on his hips. He looks extremely nauseous; skin a slight green. "I-I think," he tries speaking normally but falling short "I think the suit is.... a little too tight."

Lance's face goes slack. "Oh no."

"What?" Keith asks, but Lance ignores him.

"You got food poisoning from that restaurant, didn't you?"

A collection of "what's" and "oh no's" gather around the circle. The atmosphere is flipped like a pancake from happiness to apprehension.

Keith, however, begrudgingly turns down the accusation. "No, no. I had exactly what Hunk had and I feel-"

He's cut off by his own stomach churning wildly and the horrible sensation of bile inching up his throat. He drastically holds it at bay. "-fucking incredible."

The same can't be said for Matt who goes deathly silent until a hand covers his mouth in a polite manner when a sudden " ** _URRRP_**!" escapes his lips.

Shiro looks highly concerned. "Okay, okay. Don't panic."

"This can't be happening." Lance whispers while eyeing Matt in shock.

Keith shakes his head. "Nothings happening."

A squeaky _PPPPRRRRRR_ shoots out behind Pidge like a jet and everyone jumps at the sound. A scarlet glow ignites Pidge's face and he puts a hand on his ass in a futile attempt to hold back the smelly gas.

"Oh shit." Pidge spews.

"Oh shit indeed." Keith repeats under his breath. His face is glistening in a thin layer of sweat.

Hunk groans as a wet _PRRFFFTTT_ blows between his asscheeks.

"Y'know what?" Pidge looks around the group in slight panic "I don't give a flying fuck what suit we get. I just need to get off this WHITE carpet."

"Agreed." Hunk mumbles and he, Pidge and Matt bolt down the corridor, clutching their troubled stomachs. Nyma realises where they're heading and tries to intervene.

"Gentlemen no. No! There's a toilet just across the street. Please go there! Please!"

Shiro looks back and forth to their departure and the two groomsmen remaining. He makes up his mind. "You two - stay here." With that, Shiro leaves the lounge and runs to the gents' toilets.

Lance watches him disappear over his shoulder before turning back around and is faced with Keith. He's taken aback by the pure horror displayed on his face; his jaw slack; eyes exploded in mortification and the trail of sweat dropping down his face.

"Everybody gets the flu." Keith blubbers and swallows thickly.

* * *

Tiles sparkling and taps polished, the alluring fragrance of fresh lavender pounds the air. The toilet is grime-free and it's lid is shiny clean. A soft melody is playing through the restroom. A small shelf has lit Yankee candles and a bouquet of fake roses.

**BANG!**

The door slams open and Pidge tumbles in, his cheeks inflated like a chipmunk storing nuts. Unable to hold it in, a vicious spray of vomit ejects out of his mouth. Chunks of food and yellow liquid hit the toilet's closed lid and the painted wall behind it.

"SHIT!" Pidge barks, dropping to his knees. Swiftly lifting the lid open, he dunks his head into the toilet as more food is upchucked.

Coming in second is Hunk who has a hand on his ass; the other on his stomach. "I need the toilet! I need the toilet!" He exclaims and he tries to pull Pidge away. As more vomit spews into the toilet, Pidge stubbornly pushes away Hunk's arm. Time running out, Hunk desperately searches for an alternative.

The sink.

Before he can rethink his options, his stomach finally decides enough is enough and rumbles warningly. Clenching his asscheeks, Hunk hurriedly pulls down his trousers and boxers and jumps onto the sink.

Hearing the sound of a zipper opening, Pidge looks up from toilet and is positively horrified at what he sees. "Hunk what are you- no. No Hunk."

"Look away." Hunk glowers; face twisting into pain

"Hunk no!"

"LOOK AWAY!"

Face scrunching, the disgusting sound of diarrhoea explodes into the sink and Hunk yelps in pain. It's enough to send Pidge into another violent set of vomiting.

* * *

"Keith," Lance carefully addresses and takes steps towards him "I know you don't want to and neither do I, but I think it's best if you throw up."

Not willing to give up, Keith stubbornly shakes his head and takes a shallow breath. He is practically sweating buckets and it's made worse by the growing sweat stains under his armpits and chest.

"Don't need to." He spits through clenched teeth.

"C'mon mullet, you're turning green."

"I said I don't need to. I'm fine."

Lance isn't so sure. "Really? You sure it wasn't that grey beef. You ate a lot of those weird-looking enchiladas."

Keith's glare hardens. "I did and I feel fucking fine."

***

To add to the unfortunate series of events in the bathroom, Matt runs in blindly and goes to throw up in the toilet, not noticing it was already occupied by his little brother.

A line of thick vomit trails down Pidge's hair and he and Matt gasp sharply. Hunk squints to look but is pulled back into his shitty misery.

"I'm so sorry Pidge." Matt apologises. If looks could kill then Matt would've drop dead onto the floor with the way Pidge glares at him.

"Get the FUCK away from me Matt!" He shouts angrily.

* * *

"You're not sick."

Keith sneers. "Yep."

Lance looks him up and down and smiles. "You look great by the way."

"Thanks." Keith replies. His body is a little woozy and is sweating waterfalls "In fact, I'm feeling really, really..... hungry."

Lance raises an eyebrow. "Hungry?"

"That's right." Keith nods his head "Practically starving and I wish I had a snack."

Lance sighs and places a hand onto Keith's shoulder. "If I give you something to nibble on, would you please sit down while I get it? You're looking a little woozy."

"I just need a snack. Nothing else."

* * *

"What on Earth did we eat?!" Hunk exclaims.

Matt wipes his mouth with his sleeve and is taken aback when he sees Hunk sitting- or _shitting_ in the sink.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asks gobsmacked.

Hunk grimaces. "It's coming out of me like lava. This sink's a goner."

Horror dawns onto Matt's face and he quickly looks away. "Oh my god."

Suddenly, Nyma and one of her assistants burst into the room, but are instantly repulsed by what they see and smell.

"Don't look at me!" Hunk cries in distress.

* * *

Standing on his wobbly knees, Keith gazes around the room in hopes to distract himself from the ferocious waves in his stomach. Soft footsteps alert him and he looks ahead.

Lance walks back into lounge with what looks to be a sweet pot. He stops then drops into one of the sofa's cushions. Keith watches on - suspicious by his antics.

Locking with Keith's line of sight, Lance pats the vacant cushion next to him. Keith raises an eyebrow, so Lance nods his head to the seat.

"I know what you're trying to do and it's not gonna work." Keith remarks.

At this, Lance's shoulders drop and he rolls his eyes. "I don't bite," a wicked grin crosses his face "unless you're into that sort of thing."

A blush lights up Keith's face and he gawks at Lance. Burst of laughs erupt from Lance at Keith's reaction. He pats the seat once more. "I'm kidding. But seriously, it'll help sitting down."

Against his better judgment, Keith steps up to the sofa and quickly sits down; eyes darting away from Lance.

"Here." Offering the sweet pot, the lid already propped open. Without a single look, Keith digs his hand into it and snatches a single sweet. He pops it in his mouth and slowly sucks on it.

"Jordan Almonds." His voice muffled. Lance hums in approval and Keith gives him a small half-grin. He bites down slow, then painfully swallows the almond.

Lance looks him in the eyes. "Better?"

"I was just hungry."

"Keith." Shiro calls out as he jogs in front of the pair. He looks panicked and uneasy at the same time. "Keith. I think everyone's really sick from that restaurant."

Keith opens his mouth but is cut off by a loud gurgle. Shiro's face pales and he holds his stomach. "Oh no."

"Shiro, you okay? What's the matter?" Keith asks before Shiro turns and bolts for the main entrance.

Shiro moans, "oh no. I'm in trouble."

"It wasn't the restaurant. Shiro!" He shouts. Quickly standing up Keith runs after him, Lance not far behind.

Grasping the door to stop it from shutting Keith is alarmed when Shiro literally flees across the street. "Shiro! Shiro!"

Drivers brake sharp and honk their horns as the runaway groom catapults in front of the oncoming traffic. He shoots them apologetic looks and carries on running. Time was running out.

"Shiro! Be careful!" Keith cries out. Yet, when you gotta go, you've gotta go.

"It's happening. It's happening." Shiro mumbles under his breath. Running into a slow stumble, he crumbles to the floor as a look of dismay crosses his face. "It happened."

Realising, Keith's jaw drops. "Oh god."

Nyma sprints out of the shop and screeches to a halt. "No! Don't you dare ruin that suit!" She screams, tears building up in her eyes.

Shiro throws his little brother a helpless look and Keith could only stand there and watch in horror. "Oh wow you're really doing it, aren't ya? You're shitting in the street."

As Nyma watches in upmost woe, Lance walks up to her expressionless. "We'll take five of the Dolce & Gabbana, Nyma. Put it to my credit card please."

* * *

Driving along the highway, it's no surprise to find the two brothers in silence and shaken.... as well as looking a little green.

"It was a lovely suit." Keith says, breaking the thick silence.

He had taken a lift in Shiro's car this morning instead of driving into town on his motorbike. Looking at this moment of time, thank god he took driving lessons not only for motorbikes.

Shitting- I mean _sitting_ in the passenger seat is Shiro, who stares ahead with tear streaks down his cheeks. "I took a shit in the middle of the street."

Keith isn't too keen to have that replayed in his head, so he tries to help his troubled brother. "That.... that you most certainly did." Emphasis on the 'try'.

"I took a shit. I shit myself."

"People do that."

"I shit in my shorts. I shit."

No longer having the strength, Keith harshly pulls over and swings open his door. "Keith what're you-"

" ** _BBLLAARRGGHH_**!"  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to drop a kudos or a comment, which ever one if you feel like.


	10. You've Got a Friend in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve done a slightly different approach for the next part of this story than how the film is. Hopefully I’ve done a good job at introducing a fan favourite.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. please read end notes as there is an announcement!

Keith's _POV_

"WHAT A FUCKING DISASTER!" I scream into my coffee-stained pillow.

My god, how I wanted the bed to suck me into a black abyss so I can fall for all eternity. If you want the T, then I'm gonna give you the biggest mug of the steamiest and hottest T all of time.

I, Keith Akira Kogane, have fucked up. 

It tragically began waking up at 7am looking like a crack-headed zombie who woke up in the wrong grave. From then on, everything went down Jack and Jill's hill. The main culprit was that fake-ass restaurant that made our guts turn to shit and vomit all over the place. I think all of us have some form of PTSD after that catastrophe.

No lie, I swear I saw Shiro throw all his Nike shorts away into a trash bag with the most scarred expression ever, like he had seen Michael Jackson's ghost. Yet again, the only one who stays beautiful and perfect is Lance.

What potluck shit is that?! He’s been out for my blood since day one and now that little weasel managed to weave his way out of trouble once again and I'm sick of it.

Anyway at this moment of time, like what? 20:34 in the evening? Yeah, it’s 20:34 - do I find myself a complete mess wallowing away in self-pity. My hair is a mess, my clothes are a mess and my breath fucking stinks!

I need to find some well-deserved time to clear my head and refresh my brain. The problem is, I don't know how. I can't contact my mom because she's on a tight working schedule; Acxa has her hands full by rugby-tackling thieves to the ground, yelling into their ears "YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!" and Shiro is DEFINITELY out of the question.

Without looking, I reach a hand into my back pocket and pull out my phone. Bringing up to my face, I turn it on, type in my code and scroll down my contacts. Immediately eyes are drawn to a name. Sitting up, I balance the phone on my shoulder while pressing an ear to the screen as I wait for the call to be picked up. When the belt wrapped around my waist drops onto the floor, a jolly voice answers the call from the other end; their thick, Australian accent easily recognisable.

"Hey, yeah it's me," I greet, tugging my trousers off "listen is it okay I can come over? Great, see you soon."

* * *

For the past hour, I've watched my finger tap against the polished, Oakwood counter in a steady rhythm. By zoning out the slightly muffled sound of car engines zooming past the large windows, am I just able to hear the gentle buzzing and crackling of the dimly lit bulbs overhead; citrine light fluttering like butterfly wings. My hearing is very sensitive and has been of great use in the past. 

The strong stench of brewed coffee beans floats in the air. I inhale the bitter smell and instantly my nostril hairs are alight. It’s accompanied with a series of footsteps padding against the hardwood floor. 

“‘Ere you go, Keith.” A large mug of caffeine is set in front of me. “Just how ye’ like it.” Wisps of steam clamber out the mug and stroke lightly over my face. 

“Thanks Coran.” I respond.

Curling my fingers around the warm mug, I raise the rim to my lips and take a sip. A flow of content washes over me and a small smile sketches my face when I pull the mug away. 

It’s powerful. It’s tasty. It’s perfection. 

It’s black coffee.

“Good?” Coran teases, his back leant against the crumb-covered worktop. A soft “hmmm” leaves my lips. I’m trapped in a whirlpool of sugary bliss and I don’t want to ever leave, so I take a bigger gulp.

“Tell me,” finally finding my words “what’s better black coffee?”

Coran rubs an end of his ginger moustache between his fingers, while raising an eyebrow. “Umm, black coffee?”

I snort and raise the mug to Coran. “You know me too well.” 

Coran joins in with his own heartfelt chuckles. Suddenly, he lifts a hand and grimaces. “Those girls, I swear.”

My head tilts in confusion as he pulls out a checkered wet-cloth and irritably wipes the worktop. “What’s up?”

”I pay those two to do their job and I may as well do everything around this place.” He mumbles in one long stride. 

I think I grasp onto what has tickled his moustache. “You mean Allura and Romelle?”

With a huff Coran inspects his work, nods in self-satisfaction before remembering his company. He whips his head back to me while shoving the wet-cloth into a pocket on his apron. “Quiznak! Sorry Keith, yes you are right.”

Of all the years I’ve known Coran, I’ve never understood the meaning of “Quiznak” and I’m pretty sure no-one else knows as well.

“Where are they anyway?” I ask curiously, taking another gulp.   
  
“It’s date night for the two of them and I let them go a couple of hours early before close up. Luckily today wasn’t busy, so I knew I could handle a few orders on my own.”

I nod and place the mug down with a soft _thud_ . “At least they’re having a better time than I did.”

“Pardon?”

_‘Shit! Did I say that aloud?!’_

“I’m sorry, what?” Trying to avert Coran away. But I should know better than that as nothing gets past him. 

“What’s up?” Coran questions as he leans onto the countertop arms crossed.

My finger starts to tap again and I feel the air grow tense, maybe a little awkward? I don’t know. I take a peek through my lashes and see Coran stare at me. My shoulders hunch when I spew, “the sky?” 

Like expected, Coran’s stare hardens and he leans a little closer. “Keith?” Voice stern but soft. Grasping the warm mug, a heavy sigh escapes and suddenly, the oak wood of the countertop becomes interesting. 

“I called you because I wanted to get away from all the shit that’s happened me recently.”

“Care to tell me?” Coran asks, words chosen wisely. 

“Where to begin is the question.” I shrug, feeling down. “I don’t even think I have the energy to tell you.”

Coran hums and licks his dry lips. “Well, say whatever makes you comfortable. I’m not expecting a speech. If you don’t want to say anything, then that’s fine but-” 

“-bottling it up doesn’t help how you feel, I know.”

I sigh once more and practically deflate. The grasp around the mug loosens and I bring a hand to scratch my scalp. “Everyone keeps reminding me that. So did my therapist.”

“Do you still have appointments for... you-know-what?”

I shake my head. “Not anymore. Got fed up. Wasted my time.”

"No you didn’t. Besides, I see a change in you.”

"Well I don’t.” I finish bluntly. I chug down the rest of the coffee, now turned sour, and slam the mug down. 

Coran doesn’t say anything when he takes away my mug, nor when he places it into the sink. The silence was killing me and I couldn’t take it anymore. “We went to try on suits for Shiro’s wedding.”

"Did you now?” Coran replies, facing me “how was it? Do you guys have a fun time? I’m sure Shiro was very excited.” 

“Well, it was fun at the beginning until we had the suits fitted.” Flashbacks of Hunk barfing, Pidge farting and Shiro shitting in the street fill my head like a slide projector.   
  
Its Coran’s turn to tilt his head in confusion. “Why’s that?”

I sit up immediately and shake my hands. “Please don’t let me relive those moments. I beg of you, Coran.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t ask. No one was hurt though?” 

“Oh god no. It’s just.... embarrassing.” I grimace.

He places a hand on his chest. “Thank goodness. I won’t ask no more.” I’ll say thank fuck for that. Sometimes, secrets are best kept hidden and for certain, this is definitely one of them.

“I’ll spare you the details, but today was shitty.” Shit! You don’t know how badly I wanted to slap myself in the face.

“Okay, son. I understand. Today didn’t go as planned but there’s always tomorrow.” Coran prompt with a genuine smile, “stay positive that something good will come eventually, most likely when you’re least expecting it.”

I feel my shoulders slump as I try my best to take in his helpful advice. It’s always been difficult for me to take in someone’s word of advise and turn my life around, but at the same time I feel like I’ve become a burden for them to spare unneeded attention for my sake and I fucking hate it. 

“I’ll try.” I reply honestly, shoving a hand into my pockets to fish out my wallet - only to realise I don’t have it. Fuck my life! Can this day get any worse?!

"Ah shit! I forgot my wallet.”

Coran chuckles at my misfortune. “Don’t worry ‘bout it Keith. It’s on the house.”

“Wait, what?” I falter, eyes casting onto the middle-aged man who stands innocent and calm. 

“You heard me.” He grins, “consider it the start of a good omen.”

I blink in shock. “O-oh, w-well erm.... thanks? B-but are you sure? I can come back tomorrow with the money since it’s getting late now and-”

"Don’t even go there, mister. You heard me loud and clear. It’s my shop and I make the final decisions around ‘ere.”

My fingers twitch in anticipation and I bite down on my bottom lip. Do I take the offer? When I look up at Coran I can already tell that no matter what I say next, nothing’s going to change his mind.

“Alright ya stubborn bastard. But next time I’m definitely paying.”

"While you’re here,” he says as he walks up to till “I want you to use this and buy yourself something.”

I watch him shut the till and step up to me with a hand extended. A couple of pieces of paper is crumbled between his grasp. Money. 

“Take it.” He orders. I stumble a little like I have two left feet as my eyes are hooked on the dollar notes in his clutch. I look back and forth between Coran and the money; jaw agape as if I’m imitating a pet goldfish.

“No Coran!” I object, “I’m not gonna take your money. You earned it. I’ll be stealing.”

Looking surprised, Coran squawks, "Are you thick, lad? I’m offering it to you. Now if you were a robber, I’ll knock your ass out the park and into space with my lethal karate skills. HI-YAH!" As if Jim Carrey was featuring the lead role in a slapstick karate movie, Coran slices his hands through the air in a dizzy motion and completes the rambunctious performance with a crane stance. I can feel a smile grow on my face and a train of laughter follows. Coran was like the uncle everyone wanted and I’m grateful that I had someone as optimistic and caring in my life.

I face the palms of my hands out to the crazy, karate badass. “Whoa there now. I now know not to go and rob your cafe anytime soon. Don’t want to receive an ass-beating.” 

Chuckling warmly, Coran lowers his arms and straightens his posture before laying out the dollar bills onto the counter between us.

“Take the money, Keith.” Pushing the money closer to me. I look up at him and take the wholehearted smile on his ageing face into consideration. I nod and take ahold of the dollars, shoving them into my leather jacket pocket.

"Thanks so much, Coran.” I say while walking up to the shop’s door.

He nods and points a finger at me. “Use it well.”

“I will.” I shout before the door closes. The feeling of paper crinkles beneath my fingers. I look down and realise my hand had pulled out the dollars and was now grasping onto them for dear life. I sigh, shake my head and continue on my way to a new destination.

* * *

Herbal teas.

Brewed from the Camellia sinensis plant, fruits, spices, herbs - you name it. Its not coffee, but fuck it! I'll take whatever is a drinkable concoction and gets my lazy ass outta bed every morning.   
  
Standing in an empty aisle of 7-Eleven, I switch back and forth on the choice of teas. Weirdly enough, I feel like coffee isn’t going to do much to boost my energy and stick a middle finger up to depression that’s biting me in the ass.

What are the options? 

Composure. Relax. Sex appeal.

Fuck, these are awful.

Moving onto problem number two, which one to choose? Argh, to hell with it! I’m going to randomly pick one ‘cause I don’t give two hoots. It’s probably fake advertising. Different flavours come with different influences, but you can’t tell the difference because they don’t do shit. 

“Keith?”

My hand stops midway in the air as I hear someone call my name out. Now who the fuck at ten bloody o’clock is going to- oh it’s Acxa.

“Hey Acxa. How was work?” I ask, turning to face her. Walking up to me, she shrugs her shoulders.

“Same old, same old. Robbery here. A street fight over there. Utter chaos everywhere. Which is why I’m preparing for tomorrow.” She lifts both arms and I quickly see her hands are occupied with two bottles of tequila.   
  
“That’s some lethal shit you’ve got there.” I say, pointing to one of the bottles.

She nods. “You’re damn straight it’s lethal. Wait a second, why am I saying straight when you’re not?” 

“Says you.” I scoff. She starts to giggle before bumping me in the shoulder. 

“Seriously though, what’re you doing here? It’s unlike you to be browsing around a shit store at night looking for things that are probably going to get you fucked up like what I’m about to do right now.”

“I don’t know,” I sigh “Today’s been pretty rough and I need something to kick me in the arse and say get a grip, y’know?”   
  
She hums after I blindly pick a box of herbal tea off the shelf and walk up to counter. I let Acxa go first and she carefully places the bottles in front of the cashier. The cashier blows a bubble of pink gum and stops filing her fake nails to scan the items.

“I know exactly what you mean. Hey, why don’t we share a bottle each? I’ve got my police car parked outside. We can sit on the bonnet and chat.”

I smile, knowing there’s no way out of it, not that I don’t mind. “I can’t say no, can I?” 

She shakes her head as she pays for her items and picks up the two block paper bags off the counter. “I’ll wait outside.”

I nod and place my item onto the counter in time to Acxa leaving and the door squeaking shut. I pull out a few dollar notes out of my pocket and throw them next to the box of teabags. "Keep the change."

I don't give the cashier a chance to speak as I grab my item and walk hurriedly out of the convenience store.   
  


* * *

  
"He took a shit in the middle of the street?!"

I groan loudly and wince as the back of my head hits the windscreen at little harder than intended. This tequila is fucking me up and I haven't even reached halfway. "Yeah, watched it from start to finish."

Acxa whistles low and watches the clear liquid swirl inside the bottle as she spins it. "Damn, and I thought I had a bad day."

"Thanks for rubbing salt in my wounds." I deadpan. To numb the feeling, I chug another gobful and swallow painfully. The burn sizzles my throat like a hot grill, but its better than nothing I suppose.

“Fuck,” I croak at the intense flavour, “that’s some strong stuff.”

Acxa slide-glances when taking a small sip. “No shit.”

My finger taps the neck of the glass bottle and I feel my eyes cast down onto the fuzzy reflections of streetlights against the bonnet. 

“Wish I did something to help him."

"What, and stick a cork up his ass?" scorns Acxa , her eyebrow raised, "for Christ's sake Keith, your brother made the choice to run into oncoming traffic before shitting himself in broad daylight. It’s not your fault either of you couldn’t control his abused colon.”

I sigh to release some bent-up frustration. “I was the one that took them to that restaurant and let them eat the food in the first place.”

In the corner of my eye, I watch Acxa’s face frown, clearly thinking about what to say next. The bottle makes a soft clink when she places it down onto the cool metal. “Yes, you are right. It was stupid of you to even consider walking into that shithole from the moment you realised it was falsely advertised. Yes, you went ahead since you’re so stubborn and won’t back down from a fight to impress not only Shiro or the others, but yourself. It’s no lie when I say you brought that upon yourself. But I can see why you did it."

I turn to face her and can tell she realises I'm a little puzzled. 

"You’ve never really had the chance to show others that you mean well," she continues "even if it means accidentally giving them food poisoning from undercooked Mexican food. I know for a fact the other groomsmen appreciated your offer to take them out despite socialising a difficult task for you. You may not show it at first and give people a hard time, but you are a good person. I can see you care about those close to you, like Shiro and what you did today, okay went shit but its easy to see you put your heart to it. For someone like you, that takes balls."

Smiling, I look away from Acxa in mild bashfulness and feel the shirt's hem rub over my fingertips. "I don't know what to say."

"How about a toast?" She requests, lifting her bottle. I can help but let out small chuckles as I do the same thing. "To Shiro, and his asshole." 

"To Shiro." I laugh and we clink our bottles. The rim connects with my lips and liquid fills out my cheeks. Acxa quickly throws the mouthful of tequila down the hatch and looks up to gaze at the stars. 

“You also did to impress that Lance guy.”

 _PPPRRFFFTTT_! And there goes my precious drink. Quickly facing Officer Psychopath, I blurt “What?!” 

“Don’t play dumb. That’s a criminal’s job.”

I dismiss her reply. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

Eyebrow raised, she looks at me. “Are you for real?”

“Are you?!” 

“My god you’ve lost the plot.”

“Can you please justify? You’re killing me here.” What the hell is she going on about? Someone, I don’t care who, help me out please.

“That Lance guy.”

"Yeah? What about him?”

"He’s clearly pathed his way into your life hard.”

I roll my eyes. “I know that. Son of a bitch is a piece of shit. I’ve never known anyone get under my skin as much as he does- why are we even talking about him?!”

Acxa has nearly finished her bottle and somehow, she is miraculously still alive. I’ve just hit the halfway mark and already feel fucked.  
  
“As adults we shouldn’t be talking about sensitive topics when we’re drunk, but it does inadvertently spill secrets and hidden feelings that we wanna know about, one way or another.”

“Great. Now she’s ignoring me.”

A fist connects with my shoulder and in response, a yelp leaves my mouth. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being such a oblivious dick. You’ve clearly got a thing for this guy and not the kick-him-in-the-booty thing.”

"So what is it then?”

"More like grab-his-tie-and-to-the-bed-we-go.”

"EJDUSBDHBSHFU, WHAT?!” My face explodes red in embarrassment or anger. Acxa has the nerve to shrug her shoulders and try and hide her smirk behind the bottle rim. 

“What the fuck Acxa?!” 

“Don’t swear at a police officer.”

“Fuck that bullshit! I will never, not in a million years, view Lance in any form or shape of love.”

"You don’t sound so sure.”

"I am sure.” I snap, “100% sure.” Acxa rolls her eyes and places her empty bottle back into its paper bag.

"You’re so cute Keith. Hey everybody! My friend has a crush!”

I slap both my hands onto her lips in shock. “Ssssh! Will you shut up?! What’s gotten into you?”

Giggling, Acxa removes my hands away from her face and wipes her lips with a sleeve. “You’re either in complete denial or you are the most dense motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

"I don’t like him in that way.” But the red flaring on my cheeks says otherwise. Unfortunately, Acxa must have night-vision as she catches sight of it.  
  
“You’re blushing. Awe, Keith.” Smirking wickedly.

"Shut up Acxa.” I grumble, turning away from her. That was stupid of me as it makes me hella sus.

"I’ll let you off this time, but don’t think that’s the end of this conversation.” She points to the bottle in my hand, “are you gonna finish that?” 

I glance down at the pathetically half full, half empty bottle. I already feel the chemicals start to work in my head. “Have it. I’ve done enough throwing up as it is.”

Passing the bottle, Acxa grabs ahold and lifts it to her lips. A small pop, followed closely with a satisfied “ahh” escapes her lips when the bottle is pulled away. “Fucking beautiful. I like girls like I like my tequila. Strong, straight to the point and tasty.”

"You horny bitch.”

"That’s moi.” She takes a few gulps before reaching for the plastic lid beside me and spinning it shut. “I’ll save this for later purposes.”

I hum, half listening as my attention is captured by the gentle twinkles of shimmering stars. As a kid, I spent a lot of time staying up to watch the night sky litter with stars, mostly due to my insomnia. However, remembering those memories brought back pain and hurt.

"Watching the stars?” Acxa asks as she does the same thing. 

"Yeah.”   
  
The guilt builds up within me the longer I stargaze. Acxa begins to take notice, especially when my face sits into a frown.

She sighs. “He’s there Keith. He’s always there.”

I may have been able to bite back the tears, but not the quiver in my voice. “I know... I know. I just miss him so much.”

Taking sympathy, Acxa’s face suddenly lights up like a bulb. “Hey, to make you feel better why don’t you hang out with me during work tomorrow? It’s an early start but I think it will best for you to get out the apartment. Whatcha think?”

"Won’t you get into trouble?”

“Not if they don’t know about it.” She beckons slyly. “C’mon! I want to see if you’re tough enough to be a cop.”

Now that sells me. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, then I pleased to announce that I am in the process of making a new story. Yay!  
> I don’t want to give out major spoilers, but I’ll quickly tell you it’s another Voltron based story and the title:  
> Creature in My Mind
> 
> What could it be about? Comment down below, I’d love to see what you guys think.
> 
> Originally, I was going to finish this chapter when Acxa and Keith toast to Shiro, but something felt like it was missing so a few more pages wouldn’t hurt.
> 
> Thank you and stay safe!


	11. The Drama Continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a teensy-weensy break from writing so much, yet update at the same time, so this chapter is a little shorter than others. 
> 
> A quick thank-you to Sharise for your lovely comments that have helped keep me motivated to continue writing. Thank you to all you readers out there as well, and sending me kudos. 
> 
> Enjoy!

No one POV

Waking at 6:00am is the usual get-up time for people in the weekdays. It’s human nature to roll out of bed and flop on the floor face first. Maybe get a black eye or broken nose in the process. Imagine that. First thing’s first of every morning, you tumble out of slumber and break your face. 

What the fuck has happened to humanity? What have we evolved into? A bunch of dopes that’s what. My god, cavemen have bigger brains than the next generation. 

Have I said too much?

Yeah, I probably have. Sometimes I can’t help myself, just find a way to release all the pent-up frustration and let loose. Go crazy! Or maybe, shut the fuck up and continue with the story. Yeah I’ll do that before my mom gives me the slipper.

Stomach a wave machine of tea (supposed to help with sex appeal), Keith is currently taking Acxa’s spot on the side of the road speed-gunning cars zooming past, who leave nothing but a cloud of dust. 

Her mouth stuffed with salted crisps - Lay’s share pack - and a bottle of summer fruits juice sat beside her hip, Acxa slouches against the roof of the police car. She carefully observes Keith while munching profusely on her $3 meal deal.

"Don’t drop the arm; keep it straight.” Words muffled by the food packed in her chipmunk cheeks.

Keith rolls his eyes for the third or fourth time. “Yes Miss Bossy.” God, he’s only be doing this for about ten minutes and already Acxa has bitten a chunk out of his ass like a greedy shark.

“Well you wouldn’t know that unless I was here, wouldn’t you?” She questions, shoving a handful of baked, crunchy goodness into her trap.

Keith bobs his head shoulder to shoulder as he mocks the policewoman. “Unless I was here.”

"Heard that!” Acxa shouts through a full mouth. Keith shakes his head and throws back, “Sure thing, Chipmunk.”

“I missed my scrambled eggs on toast this morning, okay? Let me enjoy my poor excuse of breakfast.” 

A few minutes roll by and weirdly enough, not a single car or truck drive pass during that time. Arms a little sore, Keith drops the speed gun to his side and trods over to Acxa, who’s much too happy having someone do a part of her shift. 

“So, do you do this all day? It’s kinda boring.” Keith inputs.

Acxa wipes her hands to discard greasy crumbs before grabbing her drink’s bottle. “You have to be patient and wait for some speedy maniac to zoom by. It’s like fishing - a waiting game.”

"Wow, and fishing is so fun.” Keith replies with heavy sarcasm. In response, Acxa rolls her eyes and goes to take a drink but something catches her eye.

"Don’t look now but I think your rod is about to pick up a catch.”

Following her line of sight, Keith soon notices a car driving towards them. He quickly steps back to his position and lifts the speed gun, raring to go.

"Remember what I told you.” Acxa reminds Keith. He nods his head.

The sound of an engine roaring gradually builds and the wild strands of black hair whip the air as the road vehicle speeds past Keith. Few beeps later, a number in red flashes on the small screen.

“Fifty-six.” He looks over his shoulder. “What’s the speed limit here?”

Acxa was currently sipping her drink. When she realises Keith was addressing her, she responds. “Fifty-five.”

A pointless arrest. Forgetting that one, Keith waits for another to scan. Soon enough, a second car zooms past a little quicker than the first. 

“Sixty-six.”

"Probably late for work.” Acxa assumes. “Best not to ruin their day.” 

"True.” Keith agrees and turns back to the empty road. Acxa goes to take another drink but spots an oncoming car. Grinning, she calls to Keith. “Hey noob! Forty-nine coming up.”

 _‘In your dreams’_ thinks Keith as the speed gun is raised in time to scan the car’s speed. Counting the three beeps, Keith’s grin falls.

"No fucking way!” Shouting at the device. 

Acxa jumps down and jogs over to him, eyes drawn to device gripped in Keith’s hand. He was practically strangling the shit out of it and she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for it’s misfortune.

"Don’t break it.” She barks and after Keith mumbles a quick apology, does she notice the number.

Her face explodes into shock. “Holy shit!” 

Unfortunately, Keith’s ear was centred in the danger zone next to that megaphone-of-a-voice. Words rattle inside his ear canal and the preposterous volume make Keith flinch violently. 

“Jesus, woman.” He seethes, covering his abused ear. A high-pitch ring echoes down his ear and Keith grimaces at the irritating sound. 

Paying no attention, Acxa keeps her attention on the detector and anyone could see she was amazed at her stupid luck.

 _‘Why is it always her that that somehow defies all boundaries of physics?’_ Keith wonders. 

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Acxa taps on Keith’s shoulder and turns away with a smirk. “I’m so smart.”

Keith sniggers. “Not so sure about that I’m afraid.” 

Without facing him, a short “hmph!” shoots out between two pink lips before Acxa squishes her ass against the glossy grille. Arms crossed, she glares at the smirking emo.

Finding humour in her childish reaction, Keith pushes a little more. “Didn’t anyone tell you you sound like a piglet when you giggle?”

"Ha ha, very funny.” Acxa says rolling her eyes. “You’re such an ass, the toilet seat’s jealous.”

Keith scrunches his face in mock pain. “Ooo. Ouch. That hurt.” Acxa laughs and starts to twirl her gun skilfully, watching as it spin like a windmill.

“Kept that one saved just for you.”

“Gee, I feel privileged.” 

Acxa breathes a laugh. “So you should. Hey Keith?” She looks at said person, putting the gun back into its holder.

“What is it?”

“I was wondering. Since it’s been some time, have you considered about starting again? The art studio that is.”

Worryingly enough Keith doesn’t answer her straight away. She knew it was a sensitive topic to touch on, but she couldn’t hold back anymore and knowing her friend was wasting a talent everyone dreamed of having seemed to be.... well, a waste. A shame, of course! But a waste if she’s being brutally honest. 

“I don’t want to do it. Not anymore.”

Shit, she’d hit a nerve and not a good one. She didn’t mean to, but I guess when you’re dealing with something extremely sensitive there’s no rainbow until the rain clouds disappear.

“So what are you going to do instead?”

Keith lets out a heavy sigh. “Dunno. I’ve got that job at Varkon’s so...”

Was he for real? “You’re kidding right?” Acxa questions, not believing a single word. 

“It’s giving me money to survive.” 

“But it’s not giving you the freedom or lifestyle you hope for. Fucking hell Keith you can’t earn off shit jobs for the rest of your life, that’s insane!”

“Well what am I supposed to do Acxa?” He replies angrily, turning to face her. “Tell me.”

Acxa tries her best - she really does - to calm him down before the conversation borders argument. “I’m just trying to help you Keith. But you’ve got to get real and face the truth. No one wants.... _this_ for the rest of their lives and neither do you.”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I really fucking do. Let me handle this own my own, please?”

“Fine.” Acxa sighs. She was was a rocket fuelled with frustration ready to launch.

Can Keith not see the joke he’s digging himself?

Every time someone wants to help, he pushes them away in fear and denial. But he won’t admit that. No, because he’s Keith and that’s what pisses Acxa off. For now she’ll let it slide but she can’t hide the fact her concern was growing everyday and every moment for her best friend.

As for Keith, any word associated with Art are major triggers for the poor lad. Flashbacks and buried memories unearth, filling his head with zero chill like a hyperactive audience at a concert. Once again he’s tumbled back to square one.

Why did he enjoy getting his hands and clothes messy so much? Growing up, Keith remembers all the Christmas gifts and birthday presents he’d open. Paints, chalks, a Doodle Dotty with a pack of Crayola crayons. He loved Art. While fellow classmates wanted to be a fireman or a cop or a doctor, Keith dreamed to be the greatest artist and his work to be shown in the hall of fame. 

His mom loved how creative his little brain was and knew her son would be a prodigy. Whenever she was travelling the world as part of her job, Keith would face-time her and show what colourful masterpiece he created during her absence. 

His dad.....

He, well, he was there and said “what a great little artist you are” and.... and.... would pat his back and would always say..... he would always say how proud he was of Keith.... and how much he.... how much he.... 

The heartache is wrenching; the pain is unbearable; the memories are haunting and all in all brings Keith out of the deep, deep, dark hole. Silent tears cascade down his cheeks in a steady river and by the time Keith realises, his walls are already cracking brick by brick. Furiously wiping the unwanted tears away, nose sniffling, Keith shakes his shoulders and straightens his posture. Luckily for him, he had managed to keep his tiny breakdown hidden from Acxa.

God, it's such a fucking struggle remembering those fucking moments in his fucking life. If anyone says no human has ever felt emotional pain, Keith begs to differ. It's so exhausting and painful, Keith feels like its eating him from the inside; killing him. Honestly, it becomes too much for him to bear, for him to breathe, for him too.... live and it wouldn't be any different than the time he tried to.....

Well, I'd think you know....

_**‘Not that it would be the last...’** _

Shaking his head to bury the negative thoughts crawling back up like a zombie from its grave, Keith picks up the speed gun and resumes his position; brows squished together in a scowl as he stares over the speed gun and dead straight on the dense cornfields over the other side of the road.

Had he been less focused on the wind blowing the corn side to side and payed more attention to the road, would he have not startled so much by the passing blur of a sports car; it’s engine roaring like a pissed-off dragon.

“Fucking hell!” Keith shouts in fright. The beeping draws his eyes to face the scanner and what it reads doesn’t surprise Keith. “Shit, that’s eighty-six. Acxa?”

“Read your mind.” Acxa says, her body pumped up. “Let’s get that motherfucker.”

“Finally some action!” Keith excitedly yells to the sky as he and Acxa throw themselves into the front seats; leaving behind a cloud of dust from the spinning wheels.

* * *

“You get the best of both worlds.”

Before you ask, yes this is Hannah Montana. Yes, this the theme song. Yes, it’s Keith - that’s right, Keith. K-E-I-T-H. Our favourite emo who’s rocking the mullet despite it being a century old hairstyle - singing it quietly to himself. 

Why author, why? Blame it on the beer I’m holding as I write down stupid shit that magically pops up in my tipsy head and into this story. Fuck, I’ve gotta get ahold of myself. While I’m at it, I’ll say that next to Keith while holding his trustworthy laptop on his lap is, guess what..... a beer!

Thought I was gonna write coffee? Ha, SIKE! Cheers Keith.

Humming away at that annoying (yet annoyingly enough catchy) song, Keith adds tab after tab, typing away as his brain works to contrive Shiro’s bachelor party. His love for his adopted older brother Was a never ending waterfall and he’d do anything to see him happy. Sibling bond he believes - a very close, titanium bond.

As the hands on the clock tick away and the sun rises a little higher in the blue sky, Keith finally uses up all his brain chemicals, primarily energised by a few beers. Feeling a little giddy and warm, he clicks send and dramatically collapses into his chair in triumph.

_‘That took longer than expected.’_

_**‘It’s going to fail.’** _

_‘Fuck off you. Don’t ruin this moment.’_

_**‘Why are you so certain?’** _

_‘Because I know it’ll work, dingus.’_

_**‘Listen to me, it won’t work. Nothing ever does. Why can’t you see that?’** _

_‘Honestly you’re so full of shit, the toilet’s jealous.’_

Keith could’ve battled relentlessly against his evil thoughts all day but the moment had to stop when a notification popped up in the corner of his laptop screen. 

Popping an eye open, Keith stares at the notification and although a little surprised, he persuades himself to accept the incoming call. As soon as the FaceTime call opened, Keith immediately regretted accepting it; so tempted to slam his laptop shut and set it alight with a canister of gasoline and a lit match.

_‘Oh no. Not this guy.’_

“Keith! How you’ve been?” His voice cheery. _Too_ cheery...

“Lance.” Keith grunts, clearly not impressed “I’m good.”

Not!

Lance, oblivious as ever, smiles timidly, missing the apathetic tone. “That’s nice to hear. I just got your email.”

Keith allows a few seconds to pass by to give Lance the signal to carry on, but the dense idiot doesn’t. The silence grows awkward and neither know what to say.

“And?” Keith pushes on, rolling a hand through the air. Lance clears his throat, looking a little nervous. The fuck?

“It’s very sweet. But, erm.... a log cabin? For a bachelor party?”

Oh he wants to go there again? Well bring it hot stuff!.....

 _‘WHAT THE FUCK?!’_ Keith panics internally. Why now? Why of all times, does he think gay? At a moment like this, right now, at this very second - I don’t think so. Not when this sexy thing is provoking shit again. _'FUCK! I DID IT AGAIN!'_

“Is there a problem?” 

For some reason, Lance seems to grow more nervous and chews his plump bottom lip in a way so seductive, it sends sparks straight to his dick. Alarmed, Keith steals a peep at his crotch and nearly faints in horror.

A boner. He just sprouted a fucking boner!

 _‘Oh fgjfhfhfbhd!’_ Face pale as the feeling of sweet, sweet pressure builds down below. First the gay thoughts, now THIS?! What the fuck was this guy doing to him?

His voice sends Keith on cloud nine; his looks put him under a spell. Everything about Lance is a poisonous apple; one that Keith will happily take a bite of and fall to his wicked scheme on a bed of rose petals. 

_‘God that sounds so kinky. I’m gonna be sick.’_ Keith rambles on inside his head.

“Well,” Lance’s angelic voice drawing Keith away from his pitching problem “I’m curious what the meaning behind your ideal bachelor party is for Shiro.”

“O-kaay,” Keith drawls, kinda sus on Lance’s query. “When we were kids, me and Shiro used to spend a week’s vacation at his parent’s cabin during the summer.”

After his brief explanation, Lance seems intrigued - maybe a little fascinated? Keith couldn’t make out, he never understood people as a whole. Humans are so weird.

“That’s sounds hella fun.” Lance says, leaning a little closer to the camera.

Keith raises an eyebrow. 

“Er, yeah. It was.”

“Tell me more.”

Keith was taken aback by the urgency in his tone. Was Lance McClain interested, like literally, finally interested in something he said?

 _‘This guy’s more confusing than fractions, decimals and percentages.’_ Keith perceives as Lance quickly recovers from his small outburst. 

“I-if you don’t mind, that is?” He asks more chilled, yet the stutter said otherwise. 

Keith ponders all outcomes if he did tell him. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt right? 

“Well, I mentioned in the email about beers and s’mores and campfires. We used to do those every night under the stars and midnight sky, minus the beer.”

Lance laughs. “I’m sure Keith Kogane sneaked a beer or two.”

Against his willpower, a smile blooms onto Keith’s face. This conversation seemed to be going quite.... nice. He liked it. He liked a lot.

“Not with Shiro. He’d sniff that shit out like a sniffer dog. But I’d always sneak one to bed and suffer in the naughty corner the next day.”

“Oh my god.” Lance breathes and suddenly, Keith is lost at sea in an ocean of mellow laughs pouring out of Lance like a siren’s song.

“Y-yeah. That’s right.” The words startle Keith as he unexpectedly talks. Lance was turning his brain into a hot mess and truth be told, Keith didn’t mind. 

Lance wipes away invisible tears. “Oh man. I haven’t laughed like that for awhile. Felt good.” 

“Sure did.” What am I saying?! Why hasn’t my boner disappeared?! Forget a tent, I'm gonna pitch a fucking circus any second!

“Anyway, it’s a really nice idea. Have the others got your email?” 

Just as Keith goes to speak, the words are jammed in his throat as another incoming call pops up. Sighing, Keith quickly tells Lance, “hold on Lance.”

Accepting the second call shrinks Lance’s camera and Keith is creeped out by the fact that he’s a little bothered the conversation had to temporarily stop. He was really enjoying it, but why? Nothing makes sense. He hates Lance. So why does he feel... sad?

Ignoring the puzzling emotions, he focuses on the new face popping up onto the screen. Compared to Lance’s glossy solarium room, this person is surrounded by a tsunami of junk. It was like they were living inside the motherboard of a piece of alien technology. Harry Potter glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, was Pidge, looking slightly peeved. 

"Pidge. What's-"

"I like your idea Keith," cutting hm off abruptly "but I need to get fucking high and lose my shit to the sound of speakers blasting Metallica, unlike you kids. You pussies can’t handle that shit. A round of shots, I'm thinking a cruise." 

A piece of paper off to the side lays quiet and still. Keith made a beeline to his $260 paycheck.

“A cruise you say?” Questions Keith, a fear rooted inside him. A cruise was a ship and ships travel on water. Not land, water. Fucking water.

“Hold up Keith. WHAT MOM?!” Pidge shrieks, the volume scaring Keith enough to jump an inch off the seat. “NO! NOT NOW! I’M ON THE PHONE!”

Watching the strangely funny altercation, Keith sits patiently and smirks when Pidge rolls his eyes.

“NO MOM! I’M NOT SCAMMING ANYONE! I’VE NEVER DONE THAT! Crazy woman.” He grumbles as he faces Keith, who while waiting found that Lance was vacant.

“It’s okay Pidge-” pausing as another call appears in the same place on the screen like the last two. Sighing at the thought of ending another conversation, Keith quickly minimises Pidge’s call before accepting the third. 

Hunk. The walking, talking giant teddy-bear Matt nicknamed.

“Keith, buddy. How’ve you been? Is the weather alright? How’s Shiro? You two do live together right? I can’t remember, so many orders and customers flooding the bakery have made me lose my mind. Oh, Lance called - he said he’s booking a cruise trip for all of us. Can you believe it?! I’m so excited!”

Staring blankly at the screen, Keith’s jaw hangs open like a human fly trap. Brain frizzled and words a pile of jigsaw pieces in his throat, Keith hasn’t got a clue what to say. 

“Uh... uh y-yeah. Wait, what?” Something about the weather? A bakery? Who’s bakery? What was the last part again? 

_‘The fuck?’_ Keith swears in his head, completely confused. He could’ve sworn he heard Lance’s name- _‘Why has my boner appeared again?!’_

While Hunk rambles on about complete nonsense in Keith’s ears, an all too familiar ringtone resurfaces once more out the laptop.

Mindlessly pressing the green accept icon, the final but not last time he’d see this face was Matt. The older Holt sibling has his head secured to his body while Keith is lost as fuck.

“Hey Keith. I’ve figured out the bachelor party. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, cruise it is.”

Keith’s mouth moves on it’s own. “Lance called you, didn’t he?”

“Damn, jumped the gun on ya. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 _‘He’s making something jump in my pants.’_ Keith humbly thinks, face frozen and expressionless even as his dick’s close to popping the champagne cork. _‘Easy-peasy-give-ma-dick-a-squeezy. WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING?!’_

“So a cruise it is.” Lance says out-the-blue. Keith doesn’t know anymore. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was hallucinating. 

“I want weed.” Pidge randomly blurts out, nutting a bolt into whatever contraption he’s making. 

“I love dolphins.” Hunk squeals somewhere among the voices.

“Must have weed.”

Lance smiles triumphantly. “Then it’s decided. Break!”

“Break!” The other three shout together before all lines end and Keith is faced with a black screen as his laptop runs out of battery.   
  


* * *

  
“911. What’s your emergency?”

“My brother isn’t moving! He isn’t moving!”

“Calm down sir. We can help. What’s your name?”

“Takashi Shirogane. Everyone calls me Shiro.”

“Okay Shiro. Can you tell me who your brother is?”

“Keith. Oh god, I think his eyes have rolled to back of his head.”

“Okay, Shiro. Could you tell us where you are right now?”

“Yes, yes. We’re in our dining room in our shared apartment. His laptop is open in front of him.”

“You said laptop, correct?”

“Correct, ma’am.”

“And Keith’s not moving.”

“That’s right. Is everything okay? Is my brother going to die?!”

“No sir. Your brother isn’t going to die anytime soon.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Your brother is in no harm. He just needs some well-deserves rest.”

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

“It seems Keith.exe has stopped working.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Keith.
> 
> Welp, turns out this chapter is the same length of others. Guess I had too much fun. Like I said, blame it on the beer.


	12. Boats ‘N Hoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t got the slightest clue as to how the fuck a cruise works.
> 
> Luckily my mom was a travel agent and knew a lot about the different services each class got on the ship (standard vs VIPS). So, I think I’m able to write about the next disaster that’s about to happen with the information I have gathered.
> 
> If anything is wrong, please tell me.
> 
> There’s some new faces appearing.
> 
> Fair warning: I didn't realise how BIG this chapter was until I reached a little over halfway. I may break this into two parts depending on the finishing result because there's are a lot of words here, folks. 
> 
> Enjoy!

No One’s POV

“Sunshine and ladies!? Here I come!” Matt yells excitedly, fist pumping the salty air. Tagging along is Pidge, who’s dragging along a suitcase that looks ready to pop. It’s no question the little tech genius was taking more gadgets and gizmos a plenty than the everyday necessities one would take on a normal trip.

"For one day, ONE DAY, keep your dick inside your pants." He warns, eyeing his brother. Matt laughs, brushing off the slim finger pointing at him.

"You're missing out lil'bro. This is a chance to live your life and loosen up a bit." Something in the distance catches Matt's eye. A cheeky grin grows on his face as he nudges Pidge's shoulder with an elbow. "Look over there-"

"Don't wanna."

Ignoring him Matt continues talking, looking lovestruck. "A gift given from the heavens above, standing right in front of our very eyes." A group of burlesque dancers dressed in cherry corsets pulled tight and black top hats. The corsets have a glittery design of hands glued to the chest and ass parts, looking like hands reaching out to grab them.

"Oooh, the love boat is about to set sail." Matt pulls down on an imaginary lever and lets out a few boat horns. Pidge rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone while Matt ogles and drools like a dog.

Reading a brochure packed full of fun-filled activities, Hunk and Lance talk over one another as they mentally tick off all the thrilling things to do while on board. Shiro looks on at the group in mild happiness, watching them eagerly bounce around as their excitement grows; him feeling the exact same. He’d never been on a cruise before, and to be on one for his bachelor party was a dream come true. 

If only his brother felt the same way....

Practically wetting himself, Keith looks on at the vastness of the deep blue sea. The loud CRASH of waves slamming into the seawall send Keith’s anxiety through the roof. Living in a desert for most of his childhood, he never had the chance of growing up near the sea, or any place where people get wet and splash each other in the face with water. Playing _Battleships_ in the bubbly bathtub was the closet thing he did to treading in deep water. That being said, he may have outgrown his old clothes, but he never outgrew this.   
  
Keith has aquaphobia. 

The fear of water. Boats were a big no-no. He could do land and air, but not water especially the ocean. He’s heard plenty of news headlines talk about shark attacks and boats disappearing, never to be heard of again. It became no surprise he kept such a safe distance between himself and the ocean. He likes his feet on the ground and not floating in water where monstrosity could take ahold and pull him into the depths of the ocean, the light fading away as he sinks deeper and deeper and deeper. Fuck that!

It’s just that Keith can’t swim. Simple. Heck, he’ll accidentally drown himself in a fucking kiddy’s pool you inflate in the backyard.

As people around him walk by, chatting with smiles and excitedly pointing at the gigantic ship, Keith wanted to do nothing more than run as far away as possible. Unfortunately, not only would it mean missing out on spending time with his older brother but make himself look like a fool to everyone else, especially Lance.

Shiro looks behind and quickly frowns at his brother’s shaking form. His face had grown pale and was looking quite faint. This activates Shiro's famous _‘Dad Mode’_ and he quickly walks over to the frozen figure of Keith Kogane. 

“Keith? Hey, buddy?” He asks. Taking in Keith, he notices a pair of amethyst eyes affixed to the roaring waves of sea water. Immediately, he knew what’s up and his heart swell with guilt.

“Keith. Listen to me.” The solicitude in his tone is enough to gain Keith’s attention. “I know you’re afraid of water. I can promise you, everything is going to be fine.”

Not wanting his brother to worry about him, Keith tries to mask his anxiety by rubbing Shiro off. “Shiro. Don’t worry about me. This is your day. You shouldn’t have to babysit me over a little water.” Glancing to the churning seawater below.

Who cares if he was biting off more than he can chew? This was Shiro’s day! All eyes should be on the guy who’s getting married, not his little brother who can’t swim and shits a brick when it comes to water.

Likewise, Shiro doesn’t buy it. “I’m not too sure myself, Keith. Look I don’t mind if you stay close to me for the next two days while we’re on board if it helps lower your anxiety. Heck, you can miss out if you want-”

HELL NO! What the fuck was Shiro thinking?!

“What, no! Shiro you shouldn’t worry about me over some stupid fear I have. Trust me, once I’m on board I’ll be fine.”

_‘I fucking hope so.’_

Shiro sighs. “Alright then.” Suddenly, his face morphs back into a frown. “Y’know, Lance still has your VIP ticket.”

Of course that dick brought him a VIP ticket. He probably did that to rub it in Keith’s face and be like, “I’m rich, you’re poor. How sad”. So while Keith _was_ able to afford a ticket, it came with the disadvantage of not spending enough time with Shiro on the cruise.

Standard tickets suck. 

Still, it doesn’t give Shiro the role of babysitter. If he could afford the best experience, then Keith’s shit job income shouldn’t be a roadblock for him. He’s getting married, so he deserves the best of the best - Keith’s words, not mine but I can't disagree.

Clenching his teeth, Keith forces a smile. “I’ve got a ticket haven’t I?” raising the plain, standard ticket to Shiro’s eyes. “What’s the problem then?”

“The problem is that you’re not going to get the same experience as everyone else. That’s unfair. Also, you shouldn’t be forcing yourself into something you’re clearly uncomfortable with.”

“Who are you, my dad?”

Immediate regret. If the air wasn’t growing thick enough, it definitely solidified in a matter of seconds. Letting Keith’s words sink in, the shock that overcame was intense.

 _‘Shit! Why did I go and say that?!’_

“S-Shiro. I’m sorry. T-that came out wrong.” For once, could he not screw up? He felt even worse when he saw Shiro’s face. He wanted to say something so badly, but he didn’t know how. 

“I get it, Keith.” after taking a deep breath, “I’ll, er... I-I’ll let you get on with it.”

Both brother’s attention are seized when Matt shouts Shiro’s name. Those with first class, VIP - basically (most) rich bastards who like to show off - are now boarding. Shiro gives a quick reply before turning back to Keith. 

“Remember to call or come find me. Try and spend time with the others if you can.”

Keith bites back a sigh. Honestly, with how thinks were looking, all he wanted was to fly under the raider - in this case FLOAT under the raider. 

“I will.”

“Okay then.” Shiro says, clapping his hands together “well, I’ll see you sometime later on. We’ll be waiting by the pool.”

“Have fun.” Keith murmurs, waving pathetically to Shiro’s back as his older brother joins the rest of the group. The numbness viciously scratch claw marks into his skin as the group are escorted closer to the ship and further away from him.

Taking a shaky breath, Keith joins the long, long, long - how fucking long is this queue?! A frustrated groan leaves his lips after losing count of the heads lined up in front. This was going to take FOR-EVER and Keith was not the patient type, even he’ll admit that.

With his patience thinning and frustration mounting, it just had to spike when an poor, unfortunate soul accidentally bumped into Keith’s back. 

“Hey!” Snapping at whomever crossed into his territory from behind.

A short - maybe a dwarf, he doesn’t know but definitely short - man dressed in a Sherlock Holmes deerstalker hat and a oversized trench coat in the colour beige. He was clutching a vintage smoke pipe in one hand and a monocle covering his right eye.

“My apologies, young man. I seemed to have dropped my ticket and despite a 2% chance of my back breaking or pulling a muscle, in this reality I would be able to pick it up without suffering injuries.”

Weird but okay, Keith let’s this one slide. “Accidents happen.” He grumbles.

Walrus moustache twitching, the stranger suddenly points a finger into the air. “In alternate realities, there’s always a possibility oneself could change the way one thinks and acts. I’ve seen it. A day like this happening in different realities.”

“You mean the cruise?” Keith questions, glancing at the ship in the corner of his eyes. The strange, crazy man simply nods before suddenly, his eyes blow wide.

“Oh no! How can I be so stupid?”

Keith looks at him. “Whaddya mean?” He grows disturbed as the guy, who reaches his waist in height, starts to look shipwrecked. 

“With all the possible realities, the catastrophes are too great. I saw the ship sink like the titanic. What’s worst is that I can’t swim and in another, I saw you fall into the water until your face turns blue from hypothermia. In this reality, there’s a 99.9% chance you’ll drown since you cannot swim.”

Keith chokes on his own spit, boggled by the man’s words. Forget his anxiety previously bubbling. _NOW_?! Now it fucking pours ferociously out the pot. Jaw dropping to the floor, he turns to face the cause for this cuckoo head. Inexplicably, his heart starts to speed quicker and quicker as the luxury liner crouches on the bed of water like a lurking lion awaiting to pounce. Swallowing a lump stuck in his throat, Keith feels his face grow cold under the intense blaze of sun. 

This was going to be one hella _fucking_ ride.  
  


* * *

  
After stepping afoot, Keith faces an agonising wait for his cabin to be prepped to perfection. Waiting inside is honestly the most sensible course of action anyone with a fear of water or drowning or getting hit in the face with bird shit, can take. Unfortunately for Keith, knowing water was below wherever he walked and there wasn't a dry patch of land in sight if the ship suddenly sunk, scared his soul out of him so being indoors - visibly clear of water - didn't do no good as much as being outside.

Poor Keith was sinking fast into quick sand and soon, he would be gasping for breath as grains of sand fill his lungs until he suffers a slow, painful death of suffocation. Too dark? I'll tone it down. Yet that’s exactly how Keith feels right at this moment of time, hands squeezing the bronze door handle so tightly his skin looked ripe to split; knuckles a striking shade of white. 

A good chunk of time had passed since the ship’s departure and every minute became harder for Keith to get his breathing under control. Each breath wavered out his mouth in short, raspy gasps and his lungs were screaming like a banshee for refreshing air. 

_‘Fuck oxygen and fuck this! I need Shiro.’_ Thinking rationally when he gives up on holding out. Any longer and the staff will have to deal with a collapsed passenger in the first hour!

Squeezing the handle impossibly harder Keith makes his mind up and pushes open the glass door. Shiro told him to find him by the pool. He could’ve told him that VIP’s had an exclusive one! He spent the last twenty minutes looking like a headless chicken in front of a crowd of passengers sun bathing and playing in the main pool, on the lookout for his brother. 

Walking inside, it’s no wonder this facility was so exclusive. The pool is ginormous and dazzling specks of light hit the clean water through clear skylights. The marble stairway leading down onto the pool level was like a palace’s grand staircase. Keith felt like royalty and completely out of place at the same time. He’d never seen such crisp, clean decor and this room was an ultimate show-stopper. Above all else, he had to find Shiro.

 _‘Where is he?!’_ Keith panicked, eyes wildly searching high and low. Finally for what felt like a whole lifetime, Keith locks onto two familiar people splayed like starfishes on curved sun loungers. Breathing a sigh of relief, the soles of Keith’s flip-flops slap against the polished marble, tiny squeaks emerging every time a foot is lifted off the floor as he walks hurriedly over to them. 

Holding a glass of champagne while chit-chatting away to their hearts’ content, Shiro and Lance get down to business - not _that_ way you kinky bastards - the sort of business discussing wedding plans, juicy gossip and life as it is simply is, plain and boring all while sipping the good shit finesse style. 

“-see that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Oh my gosh, Lance.”

“C’mon! It’s tough when he’s around.”

“When who’s around?” Keith cuts in. He cringed inwardly at the small tremor in his voice, the anxiety clearly haven’t withdrawn. Seeing his brother made Keith feel a little more safe but at the same time, a tad childish. Honestly, he felt a little pathetic over the fact that an adult like himself was getting so worked up over nothing.

Only nothing meaning thousands and thousands of gallons of saltwater rushing below his feet and at any moment the fucking ship could over turn and like the captain, he’d go down with the ship because he can’t fucking swim and then get ripped to pieces by a shiver of great white sharks and-

“Keith!”

Embarrassingly, a squeaky falsetto of “huh” squeaks behind Keith’s pursed lips; ears burning at the cringe-worthy sound. Shiro takes no notice, too concerned by the ever fading colour of Keith’s face. 

“You don’t look well. Everything alright?” Concern radiating off Shiro as he stares directly at Keith. Frozen onto the spot in fear, Keith can only move his head, Adam's apple bobbing when swallowing a lump. A cold sweat freezes his skin like a thick sheet of ice. He grew so pale he’d win a Halloween costume contest by "dressing up" as none other than, Casper the friendly ghost. 

"No. Yes! No... I-I don't know." Keith stutters. Shiro stands and grasps Keith's hands into his.

"You're shaking. Here," dragging Keith towards his sun bed and lowering onto it, taking Keith with him "Sit down."

Keith silently nods, eyes casting towards the warmth of Shiro's hands. _'Why can't I stop shaking? C'mon Keith, speak! You can do better than this.'_

"What's wrong with him?" Lance asks, facing the two brothers. For a split second Keith actually forgot Shiro wasn’t alone. He steals a glance and is surprised to see genuine concern casted onto Lance's face like someone chucked a bucket of water at him - fuck, why the hell did he think about water?! He's just making it worse for himself. _'Shut the fuck up, you stupid brain.'_ Keith curses angrily inside his head.

Seriously though, why on Earth would Lance show the slightest concern over someone he hates? From the moment they laid eyes upon one another, the stage was set. Two lions fighting for dominance. It's as bad as the 2020 US election - too close to call who will come out on top. 

Change of subject, why was it so hard to breathe? Was the air always this thin? Why can't I breathe?

"Keith. Listen to my voice. You need to calm down, you're getting worked up. Please Keith." Shiro's voice sounded like it was trapped underwater and that alone makes Keith choke; lungs aching and begging for rich oxygen. 

He feels a faint touch press on his shoulder and into his back. Was it a ghost? It sure felt like it. The banging in his ears were thunderclouds and his throat as dry as the Sahara desert. 

A whisper in the crowd, Keith’s ears pick up on muddled words; its voice wavy but soft. It draws him in like a boat docking. Enough of boats and water, I’ve gotta help our friend here. Let me think of something else to say. Maybe... like a sailor hypnotised by a siren’s song? Fuck that’s worse! C’mon brain, think. Got it - a bee charmed by the beauty of a rose. Brilliant! Now, let’s just hope Keith isn’t allergic to bees or suffers from hay fever....

“-stay with me. You’ve got it.” _Who’s voice is that? It’s so.... beautiful._ “That’s it. Breathe in to 10. You can do it.”

So Keith did exactly as the angel’s voice told him. Their tone as soft as chinchilla’s fur and a silky _Galaxy_ chocolate bar. Delicious and comforting. It melts on his tongue and warms his stomach. He wants more. He wants more and more and more until blissfully satisfied.

“Now, hold to 7. I’ll do the same.”

_‘Of course, my guardian angel. Anything to keep you talking.’_

“That’s it Keith. Now slowly release to the count of 8. You’re doing great.”

 _‘I will, gorgeous.’_ Built up tears slowly fade away; his vision reappearing like the scorching sun breaking through clouds. Streaks of natural light pierce into his eyes and Keith squints due to the sharp intensity.

“Well done Keith.” Keith recognises it as Shiro’s voice but not the angel’s. He raises an eyebrow. _What the fuck?_ “Thank you for your help, Lance.”

Lance? Lance.... _Lance_. Oh shit.

“No problem Shiro.” Replies the voice of Keith’s dreams. _Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. No! Fuck no!_ “He’s seems to be doing fine.”

 _FFFFFUCK!_ “You okay Keith?”

Eyes now alert and clear, Keith wishes upon a million stars he did not just think that about, who he hopes to God didn’t. Staring dead in his eyes, hands on either shoulder, is Lance.

Crap. Maybe it wasn’t him?

“Feeling alright?” Fuck, it was him. You know what? Forget what I said about helping Keith out. Nothing would satisfy him more than the waves to drag him under and pull him to the bottomless seabed. Lance double takes when he sees all colour pour out of Keith's face as a life supply of shock and dismay hits him like a truck. Instantly he begins to worry, believing something was truly wrong with Keith.

“Keith? Hey don’t fail me now, mullet.”

“Pardon me gentlemen.” A tall man dressed in a flashing suit; his black hair loaded to the roots with gel so strong, Keith swears he can feel his nostril hairs burn. He holds a stern look which meant nothing but trouble in Keith's eyes.

"Can I help you, sir?" Shiro asks politely as all three turn to face the imposter.

Manners the complete opposite, he rudely points at Keith. "Is he of first class?" The deck steward questions. Keith can see an off-putting glint in his eyes when they set onto him. Immediately, anger begins to rise.

Lance looks at Keith before returning to the steward. "No, but he is in our party-"

"I'm sorry but he is trespassing on an unauthorised complex. Please leave immediately." Oh, first the butler at the engagement party and now this fucking stuck-up brat? I see how it is.

Unbeknownst to Keith, a cool frown sets on Lance's face and he steps forward. "And why is that?"

"Because he does not have a VIP pass," he scoffs "according to you, Mr McClain. Its against the rules for a passenger with a standard pass to access VIP facilities."

Shiro steps in. "Surely its no problem if he can stay for a couple more minutes? He's just had a panic attack and we really want to make sure he's okay."

The deck steward glimpses at Keith. "He looks fine to me. Now, please leave before I have to call security."

"Security?" All three squawk. _'This bastard really wants to go there._ ' Keith curses loudly in his head and his teeth grit and fists scrunch in response.

"So?" Keith finds himself saying.

Shiro catches onto his little brother's tight tone and instantly, he tries to intervene to calm Keith's rising anger. "Maybe we can sort out an arrangement?" He asks, forcing a smile. The dick- sorry, not sorry _deck_ steward is not convinced and remains adamant.

"No arrangement is needed. Sir," he looks at Keith, who glares daggers "please leave. I shan't ask again."

 _'Oooo, tryna be a prissy, poshy prick. I don't think.'_ Fists tightening, the urge to sucker-punch the guy’s jaw is very, very tempting but his train of thoughts freeze when his eyes land on Shiro and like a slap, remembers the whole purpose of this trip. Sighing in defeat, Keith raises his hands to surrender.

"Fine. I'll leave." Shiro gapes at his brother, clearly surprised. Never had Keith backed down without a fight. He honestly wanted to drag Keith to the ship’s doctor to check to see if he’s feeling okay.

“K-Keith?” He stammers. Said person turns their head to him and a small smile appears on their face. 

“It’s okay Shiro,” laying a hand onto his shoulder “I’ll be fine.”

But the other men detect the lie in his forced tone of voice. Yes, Shiro wanted a good time but he didn’t want any of his party members getting hurt or ill. 

“Let us come with you.” Not expecting Keith’s eyes to blow wide and instantly dismiss him.

“No Shiro, no. You want to be by the pool, you can. I shouldn’t have interfered.” Dragging the last word while glaring at the deck steward. 

“But I don’t want to leave you while you’re a nervous wreck.”

“I’m not a nervous wreck. Maybe a little jumpy, nothing else.”

“You had a panic attack.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Lance may have previously known a little about Keith, but overtime he picked up something important about his personality. He was one stubborn guy.

Sighing, he reaches into his beach tote bag; pulls out a small travel bag, sleek and pink, and zips it open to shove a hand inside. When he pulls his hand back out, it wasn’t on its own. An orange bottle is clasped in his grip and after loosening the cap with a small _click_ and POP, tilts and shakes the bottle lightly. 

Two white tablets fall into his open palm.

“Hey Keith,” holding out the tablets in front of him “take these.”

Keith eyes the tablets, a little suspicious. He looks up at Lance who bobs his head to the unknown medication laying in his palm. “They help with my anxiety. It should do the trick.”

Still not sold, Keith glances at Shiro as he sits quiet, watching the scene unfold. He catches on and simply shrugs. The message was clear.

Take them. So Keith did - not straight down the hatch though, just taking ahold of them.

“T-thanks.” He stutters. Lance smiles at his bashfulness; Keith tries not to notice. 

Before Lance has the chance to respond, the deck steward cuts in. “Now please leave.”

Sending a final death glare, Keith stands to leave and walks away. Despite the comfort he received, the anxiety kicks him in the guts and Shiro grimaces when Keith stumbles up the stairway, hand grasping the rail as he painfully makes his way up.

“God, I feel awful.” He says when he turns to Lance, the deck steward vanished, “I should really make sure he’s okay.”

Lance places a hand onto his shoulder when he goes to sit up. “I know Shiro. You heard him. How about we spend some time here and then find Keith? I don’t think he’ll be happy if we didn’t listen to him.”

Shiro looks at the stairway leading up to the doors where his little brother had disappeared through and sighs, still reluctant. “Fine. But any problems, we leave.”

Lance smiles warmly. “Agreed.”

* * *

“You’ve never had a shot in your life?!”

Stationed at the bar, one handling half a pint of cool beer and the other with a tall glass of fresh, sparkling water, is Matt and Hunk.

Hunk pours another glass full of water from the portly-shaped jug. Matt is gaping like a fish as Hunk takes decent sips to quench his thirst. 

“Do I act like I do?” Hunk questions, gently placing the glass onto to a beer mat provided.

“Honestly,” Matt responds a few seconds later “I think you’re the type to be a ‘Black Horse’.”

“You think so?” Hunk chuckles. 

Matt nods his head frantically. “I know so, big guy. It’s a little scary if you ask me.”

This sets off Hunk, light laughter leaving his lips and broad shoulders shaking in effect. Matt follows suit and an arm is thrown over Hunk’s shoulders as the two men have a good time enjoying each other’s company.

The barman flashes a smile while wiping a glass squeaky clean, pleased his customers are happy and content.

When Matt pulls away from Hunk a smidge, his eyes immediately land on something - or _someone_ \- approaching the rotating bar.

“Keith! Buddy!” Alerting him of their presence. Matt feels his smile grow as Keith lands ahoy and walks towards the two groomsmen. He notices a little stumble of his feet and a little shake of his knees when he closes in. 

“What’s shaking, Keith?” He lightly jokes, but the smile drops when he notices the shocking white pigment painted onto Keith’s face. He looked absolutely shit-scared. “You okay?”

Noticing the shift of emotion in his tone, Keith silently waves a hand in a dismissive manner; eyes cascaded to the dark wood countertop.

“You don’t look so well. Are you sick?” Hunk asks, moving his stool closer to his extremely pale-faced friend. “Do you need me to get medical assistance?”

Keith shakes his head stiffly. “N-no. Just a little... seasick.”

Hunk frowns at the the tightness in his voice. It also sounded like he was hiding something else, but Hunk didn’t push it in case of making him feel worse. The poor guy was working up a sweat for Christ’s sake!

“Damn, that’s a killer. Have you gone outside? Fresh air helps.”

“Don’t want to.” Keith bluntly replies. Hunk has a sinking feeling but says nothing. 

“Okay. Okay, no problem. Here, have a little drink.” He slides his glass over to Keith’s crossed arms on top of the countertop. It pokes his elbow and Hunk watches his eyes avert to the offered drink. He looks to Hunk and a ghost smile appears on his face.

“Thanks.” A hand cups the glass and it’s quickly lifted to his opening lips. Something stops him. An eyebrow rises when Hunk quietly observes Keith look down into his other hand, palm open and the two tablets visible to his line of sight. 

Before Hunk could ask what those were, Keith, in a swift motion, chucks the tablets back to his throat and chugs down a large gulp of sparkling water. Except he wasn’t anticipating for the fizzy texture and taste and starts to cough in surprise. 

“You okay?” 

With one more cough, Keith turns to Hunk while wiping his mouth clean with a sleeve. “Yeah, I’m okay. Didn’t know you like sparkling water.”

“I find it refreshing.” He changes the subject, “what were those?”

“What was what?” Keith plays dumb.

“Those tablets. Something wrong?”

“W-what? Oh!” Eyes blowing wide as he recoils, “Lance gave me them. Said they help with anxiety and stuff.”

“It’s okay for you to take them?” Hunk worries. 

“If he knew they were going to cause harm, Lance would’ve never offered them.”  
  
Feeling like an idiot, Hunk nearly slaps himself. Of course. Phew, he was close to plucking out his hair in worry. "You're right. I didn't think about that." 

"Did he at least tell you what they're called?" Matt adds, listening closely on the far side. Keith shakes his head, but instantly regrets it as it worsens his headache. 

"No, but I know they're not doing shit to calm me down."

A hasty laugh explodes out Matt. Keith and Hunk look to him, their eyebrows raised. "I may not be a pharmaceutical scientist," he tells Keith "but I do know medication like _that_ doesn't kick in straight away. Give it some time and you may feel a change."

"He's right." Agrees Hunk, looking back to Keith.

Keith sighs heavily and starts twiddling his thumbs. "I know that. Thanks anyway."

"No problem." Matt raises a thumbs-up.

Hunk nods as a small smile shines on his face. "We want to make sure you're okay, Keith. You're our friend." 

Something tugs Keith’s heart, like REALLY tugs his heart. Hunk saying he’s a friend didn’t sit right with him and that includes Matt who doesn’t look disgusted or fake a smile at the consideration. He only took on board becoming a member of Shiro’s groomsmen because:

a.) he is the Best Man.

b.) meaning he has to join the group of the chosen few.

c.) he only did this to make Shiro happy.

d.) to make Shiro happy. 

  
Fuck, he really didn’t think this through.

Sure, he’s honoured to be given the opportunity to be the groom’s right-hand man. However, he wasn’t expecting to make talk with the other groomsmen. Most of all, the most important thing he never expected in a million years, was for _him_ to befriend the fucking groomsmen - or vice versa.

This was not what he had planned.

“Keith? You still with us?” 

Blinking rapidly, Keith is yeeted back into reality and finds both Hunk and Matt staring at him. _‘Great way to put me on the spot guys.’_

“Sorry, got lost in thought.” He quickly replies. Matt hums, which Keith reads he knows what he meant by that. However Hunk is a drastic difference; face pulled to a frown as his eyes stay on Keith like he was searching for something inside of him, which Matt clearly didn’t pick up on - not that Keith was hiding anything... right?

As Hunk looks to speak, he is abruptly cut off by a loud GROWL and GRUMBLE. A small blush paints Hunk’s cheeks pink as a meaty hand places over his rumbling stomach. 

“Whoops. Apologises about that. I guess I that’s the dinner bell ringing. Need to refuel the tank.” He laughs, patting his paunchy middle with a smile as bright as the sun. 

“If they have any cocktail sausages or pork pies, can you bring me some please? I’ll watch the drinks.” Insists Matt, tapping his beer and sliding Hunk’s drink a little closer to his side. 

Standing, Hunk warmly replies “Gotcha. Want anything Keith?”

Hearing his name be addressed, Keith looks to Hunk as he takes a couple is steps away from the bar. He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Okay then. I’ll bring an extra plate just in case. See you in a bit.” Like that, Hunk disappears around the corner in search of the buffet. 

At the same time, Matt greedily gulps a huge mouthful of tasty beer, foam dusting the top of his lips like a frothy moustache. Keith chuckles when Matt crosses his eyes as his tongue darts left to right to lick away the bubbly foam. 

“Love beer. Best thing ever invented. Don’t you think so?” He asks Keith. 

“I guess you can say that.” He replies, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not a big beer-drinker though.”

Gasping, Matt mockingly looks appalled, a hand placed over his chest. “Keith. You’ve wounded me.”

Forcing a laugh, embarrassment rises as Keith cringes at the obvious falseness in his futile attempt to distract himself from the growing nerves setting slight to every nerve inside of him. Worse, Matt clocks on but instead of laughing at him, he cocks his head to the side with a sharp eyebrow raised.

“You still seem tense. Pills not working?”

“Tablets.” He corrects then shakes his head. “And no, they haven’t kicked in. Maybe it only works on Lance.”

“Hmm, maybe.” 

Sighing in frustration, Keith can’t help but feel Lance played a trick on him to gain more time with Shiro. _‘Sneaky fucker.’_

“Can I take your order, sir?” 

Looking up from his twiddling thumbs, Keith is face to face with the cute barman looking ready to prepare another order. 

“Got anything strong?” He asks. Boy was he suffering and a right kick in the arse will put him back on his feet. He hopes the barman gives him something fucking incredible.

“We have the best Scotch Whiskey in hand.”

Just what he was looking for. Something wickedly brutal. “Fuck it, I’ll take it.”

The barman nods, takes away Keith’s money and walks away to prepare his drink. To his left, he hears a sharp intake of air and looks at Matt. 

He raises his beer while pointing a finger at him. “Great choice. You have some balls. I can’t handle that evil shit.”

Keith goes to reply but a gentle thud snatches his attention. A squeaky clean whiskey tumbler filled halfway with golden Scotch sits patiently in front of him.

Without hesitation and wanting to prove his worth to Matt, Keith downs the whole thing in one perfect swallow. The chemical reaction is immediate. The burn is intense, the flavour is powerful but FUCK THAT FEELS AMAZING!

“Holy shit dude!” Exclaims Matt, eyes wide. “You’re insane.”

Insane? Sounds about right. Goddamn, that shit was good. Not wasting another second, Keith slams down the glass and more money onto the countertop. He flags down the waiter and orders for another.   
  
The barman gladly takes his empty glass and money. Like a child on sugar rush, Keith bounces in his seat awaiting for the second round of sweet, sweet Scotch. Matt looks greatly impressed and his smile widens when the refilled glass is placed in front of Keith, who hurriedly throws it down the hatch. 

“Jesus Christ! You’re a fucking robot or an alien. There’s no way in hell any human being on Earth can do what you just did.”

Slamming the glass down once more, Matt’s praise makes Keith laugh. The warm feeling inside him felt good and he wasn’t this relaxed a few minutes. Alcohol fucks you up. 

“You’re witnessing a master at their finest.” He jokes, twirling the glass with an index finger.

“You’re unbelievable. Y’know what, fuck you. Fuck. You. I’ve been trying to conquer Scotch for the pass few years and I haven’t even come close to beating three sips. THREE SIPS! How pathetic is that?!”

While Matt rants on, Keith, on the other hand, is staring into the abyss. His hands are wide open, palms facing him as his amethyst eyes are fixated to them. In a slow motion, he curls and uncurls his fingers as if enchanted. Head cocking to the side, he starts to wave his hands side to side and is mildly awestruck when his vision picks up the blurry illusion of multiple hands following each other when waving them.

Blinking twice, Keith looks up at the barman standing in front of him. In the real world, he was politely asking Keith if wanted a third top-up. In Keith's eyes, he saw Woody from Toy Story doing a rambunctious cowboy dance, yelling at the top of his lungs "Howdy partner!". Lips moving but no words leaving, Keith mouths "the fuck?" before turning to right. He watches Matt's lips move but the sound of _QUAKE! QUAKE! QUAKE!_ leaving them startles him. What really shocks him, is when his mouth suddenly transforms into the yellow beak of a duck, the quakes picking up in volume.

"-don't even get me started on vodka. The Russians are something else." He downs the last bit of beer and pushes it away. The good feeling of tipsiness didn't last as long as he hoped for because the minute he looks at Keith, the effect of alcohol leaves his system. "Keith? You doing okay there?" He asks, not realising Keith just witnessed a half-man-half-duck blow him a kiss. Waving a hand in front of his face made no difference in Keith's frozen, wide-eyed figure. "Keith?"

On auto-pilot, Keith stands steadily to his feet and to Matt's confusion walks away all while not blinking a single time. A puzzled Matt watches after him and to his astonishment, captures Keith flirt with a group of fine-looking women in fluent Spanish. His accent is spicy and the girls are instantly head over heels. They giggle and watch Keith brisk smoothly away like a ballerina dancing on stage.

Jaw dropping to the floor, Matt's mind is boggled by what he had encountered. The barman is cleaning Keith's abandoned glass while walking up to Matt. Seconds after standing in front of him, the barman is about to ask Matt for any possible requirements but Matt beats him to it.

Like a mad man, Matt throws himself over the countertop hurriedly telling him, "I'll have whatever he's had. And keep 'em coming."

[TBC]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to split this into two parts. Its way too big to write as one chapter, and I really needed to make an update. Stay tuned for the next part.
> 
> Remember to drop a comment or kudos, us writers love that shit.


	13. Boats ‘N Hoes (#2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part ladies and gentlemen. Now things really get wild.
> 
> I’m so sorry for the long delay. I’ve recently published a new story, now a series, and I had so much fun writing it. If you’re interested in taking a read, please do. It will consist of four parts and the second part is currently under development.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I did have writer’s block for about a week but finally got this damn chapter done. Phew!
> 
> I haven’t abandoned ship. Not now, not ever.
> 
> Enjoy!

No One’s POV 

Unlike the other groomsmen, there was one we hadn’t talked much about in the last chapter. You ask "Who could this be, CapitalFantasy?" Well, let me give you some clues. He's short. He's fierce. Intelligent and sarcastic. Fun yet dangerous.

Oh who am I kidding? Of course you'll know who I'm on about that. It's Pidge Holt everybody. Let's have look on what our favourite, give-him-coffee-or-suffer-for-all-eternal-life gremlin is getting up to.

Snooping around the variety of shops, Pidge is mildly interested in the common souvenirs like keychains, coloured caps with the ship’s logo and custom postcards on rotating racks. Of course, like my real name, Pidge couldn’t find any keepsakes with his name printed onto it. Common ones like Paige or Abigail, Luke or Josh or other popularly used names were stacked on the display racks. Pidge glares at each and every one, completely fed up. 

“This is such bullshit.” He snarls, taking one more glance at the name tags before walking away in a bitter mood. Such a little person with a lot of attitude.

Who doesn’t love Pidge? 

Head down, his feet carry him over to another shop over on the other side and when he looks up, he’s not surprised to find himself standing in the third, fourth? Fifth? Doesn’t matter because it’s another fucking gift shop selling exactly the other stuff the last ones offered.

Deflated, he really considers leaving the shopping area in search of something much more entertaining and worth his time. Then, in the corner of his eye something catches his attention. 

In the corner of the shop was a man. 

A man. Not plural, just a man. The most average-looking man you will ever come across in a gift shop. A man who minds his own business. A man who you don’t really take no notice of unless he is your type. A man is no more than a man. Simply just a man.

For Pidge, this was not the case.

Instead, he figures something is off-putting about this man and decides to do one of the many things he is good at: stalking and so it begins, analysing the man’s every move, every blink, every breath of air he does while keeping a safe distance between them as the man navigates his way through the shop.

Pidge continues his spying mission even after the man leaves the shop empty handed. He was dressed in normal clothing; he acted pretty normal so what was the deal?

Pidge knew something and he was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter the cost...

* * *

It had been some time since the doors leading into the exclusive pool area were pushed open and luckily enough, they opened to welcome a new guest. Well, not particularly new...

Feet sturdy and legs straight - even though we all know he isn’t - steps in Keith, posture so sophisticated he looks nothing but a smooth criminal. Standing at the top of the staircase, his eyes gather in the surrounding until hitting x marks the spot. A smirk grows on his face as Keith descends the marble steps, swag a little tipsy.

Laughing and smiling together are Shiro and Lance accompanied with newly filled champagne glasses, microscopic bubbles spinning in a thin underwater vortex. They were so absorbed in their conversation, the soft padding of feet proceeding towards them never alerted either of the two.

Standing beside the headrest of Shiro's sun lounger, Keith listens to the laughs pour out of him as he and Lance crack up from a joke Lance had made seconds ago.

The laughter is put on hold when the feeling of a hand brushing through Shiro’s hair catches him off-guard. Turning around, he's pleased to his little brother looking down at him with a smile; the hand retracting back to his side.

"Keith. You're looking better." He said, looking Keith up and down. He didn't sense any anxiety or fear radiate off him and Shiro silently thanked God.

Slowly nodding, Keith leans a hip into the headrest while placing his hands atop. Lance, on the other hand, senses something off. In his eyes, Keith looked a little giddy which was definitely NOT his personality.

"Yeah, I'm feeling _really_ good. Thank you for those tablets Lance. You were right, they really do work miracles." Instead of feeling appreciated for his kind words, Lance grimaces at the wavy tone of Keith's voice.

Something was definitely off.

However, Shiro remained oblivious and smiled, happy his brother was slowly but surely getting along with Lance. "Thank goodness for that."

"I knoooow right," he drags out, head tipping backwards "I feel really incredible. I'm not scared anymore."

Finally noticing what Lance did, Shiro raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Nah, I feel better than okay. I feel really relaxed and excited."

"That's good to hear." Lance drops in. But neither were him or Shiro ready to what was about to come.

Keith's movements start to get a little crazy and he starts acting really drunk. "And READDDY!" Mouth stretching as wide as a blue whales’, he inhales a deep breath before shouting at the top of his lungs, "TO PARRRRR-TTAAAYYY!"

Jaws dropping, Lance and Shiro catch flies; their asses frozen to the sun beds while staring at Keith in morbid fascination as he begins to grow more giddier and starts to dance.

“- _with the best of them_.” He sings in a Texan voice, loudly clapping to keep the flow. “ _And I’m gonna go down to the riverrrrrr_!”

Keith starts to chuckle uncontrollably and smirk like a drunk man and Shiro, in shock, bursts out a laugh as he looks Keith up and down like he was an alien from out of space.

“Wow.” He breathes, completely baffled “you sure are relaxed and excited there, Keith. Why don’t you sit down for a moment?”

Keith shakes his head wildly. “Naaah, I’m still standing. Anyway, whatcha talking about? Is it me?”

Choking on spit, Lance’s eyes blow wide and his hands wave around in the air while his head shakes profusely. “What?! Ha ha, no! No, no, no, no! No way! No!”

“You sure, Lancey-Lance?” An eyebrow raised.

A blush strikes Lance’s face and he looks away to hide it. “N-no. Never.” He stumbles, the blush burning his cheeks “we were talking about something else, weren’t we?”

Begrudgingly thrown into the mix, Shiro glances between Keith and Lance, who seem to have some strange chemistry going on. “T-that’s right. Lance was talking about how he knows the captain of this ship.”

“Crazy isn’t it?” Lance responds, a smile growing. But that soon retreats when Keith starts to openly mock him.

“Oh you know him? Of course you do.” Mocking him in a babyish voice. “Lance knows the captain? My, what a surprise!”

Eyes blowing wide, Shiro quickly peaks at Lance who’s utterly bewildered by the spectacle. As he returns his sight back onto Keith, he’s even more shocked by what he’s doing to the headrest. 

“Gee, I wonder _how_ he knows the. Fucking. Captain.” Snarls Keith while humping the headrest aggressively.

Shiro feels all the colour and life drain out of his body and whatever words he planned to speak were caught in his throat when the same deck steward pops up outta nowhere.

“Sir, what is the meaning of this?”

Attention sold, Keith makes eye contact with the deck steward. A drunk smirk crosses his face.

“Well hello again. Aren’t you a nosy sack-a-shit.” Keith bursts out laughing and grabs his stomach over-exaggeratedly. A few seconds pass and he stands up straight, wipes a tear away before elbowing the deck steward in his ribs. “I’m just fucking with ya.”

Despite the insult, the deck steward composes himself and replies, “I’m sorry but this is against the policy. You cannot be here.”

A loud gasp explodes out of Keith and he turns to face Shiro and Lance, eyes wide like dinner plates. “So strict.”

He turns back to deck steward. “Come to think about it,” grinning like a Cheshire Cat “your looks aren’t actually that bad.”

Keith cheekily creeps up to the deck steward, shoulders giving a little shimmy as he draws in close. “I’m still up for rental y’know.”

Clearing his throat, an arm is raised behind Keith’s back, not touching it but held in mid-air while the other is slightly elevated and was directed to the pool’s entrance. “I’m flattered. Now please leave.”

Sighing, Keith whips his head so violently to the side everyone panics his neck might break. Made out of rubber, it doesn’t and Keith rolls his eyes while patting Shiro’s head as if he was a puppy. 

“I’m gonna go and take a nap.” Words slightly slurred. Honestly, that was the best decision he had all day and Shiro agrees in an urgent manner while Lance silently does the same, still mind-blown by Keith’s drunk show.

“That’s a good idea, bud.”

Flashing a lopsided smile Keith goes to nod but his head suddenly droops near his knees before whipping back up and facing the opposite direction. Back turned, he two-finger salutes Shiro and Lance as he walks away.

“Catch you on the flip-side, motherfuckers.” Keith declares woozily.

At the sound of light footsteps, Keith’s attention is seized by the deck steward, who starts following him.

“Alright thennnnn...” amethyst eyes squint as Keith reads the name tag clipped on his burgundy waistcoat. “Dobby.”

“It’s Bobby.” The deck steward named Bobby corrects. 

“Okay, Nobby.” Keith smirks, placing a foot on the first step of the marble staircase.

“Bobby, sir.”

“Fancy calling your son, Nobby.” Mumbling gibberish without a care. “Pffft! You’re more like Noddy, the Nobby.”

“I agree to disagree.”

“Like it’s off some kid show. Hey there kids! Nod if you’re a nob.”

“That’s a little detrimental.”

Whining like a child, Keith pouts "Its a little joke.” 

“It’s not my forte.”

Keith sways left to right with every step he climbs. Bobby stands behind him, making sure he not only leaves but doesn’t tumble down the stairs and crack his head open. Seriously though, even if that did happen, I don’t think Keith would feel a thing.

Bobby nearly collides into Keith when he stops in the middle of the staircase. “Wait a second,” turning over a shoulder to glare down at Bobby “if you’re supposed to be a free elf, then why the fuck are you working on a ship? You have freedom. No more slavery!”

“You’re confusing yourself with my name and Harry Potter, sir. Neither of the two relate.”

“But your name is Dobby.”

“It’s Bobby.”

“Bobby. Bobby, Nobby, Hobby.” Keith rambles uncontrollably, “Fucking bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo!”

Eventually they had reached the top like explorers completing a Mount Everest expedition. He watches on as Keith grasps the shiny, chrome doorhandles and swings open both doors. 

An eyebrow is raised when Keith remains stuck on the spot, the opened doors revealing other passengers walk by albeit slightly confused by the show Keith was rewarding them.

Without letting go, Keith whips his head over a shoulder and faces Bobby with a soft glare. 

“These doors should be open. It’s the 90’s, civil rights matter.”

Bobby rolls his eyes and gently pushes Keith’s back to urge him out. “Sorry but you’re in the wrong decade.”

Keith whines like a child and slowly unwraps his hands off the handles, then flops them to his sides. “Hmm, no. You are.” He pouts while stepping outside.

“Yes. You are right.” Bobby lies wisely, not wanting to spark a fight with a drugged passenger. 

A goofy smirk blooms on Keith’s face and as the doors close, Bobby finds himself having a short stand off with Keith, who’s eyes scan him up and down.

Before he can sigh in relief, Bobby once again rolls his eyes when Keith pushes his face up against the narrow gap as the doors try to close.

Raising a finger, he points it sharply to the left while glaring into Keith’s eyes that squint as his smushed cheeks push up into them. “Go.”

Trying to smile, Keith makes himself look even more stupid with those squished cheeks and pouty lips. He winks then as fast as lightening sprints away, leaving a cloud of dust. 

Bobby can now breathe a sigh of relief as the doors finally shut and he heads back down the staircase to attend guests.

All while Shiro and Lance witnessed everything.

With the coast clear, Shiro can finally speak. He turns to Lance, eyes wide like a cartoon. “Holy crap! What the hell did you give him?!”

Likewise, Lance is utterly dumbfounded. Never had he expected anything like that to occur. Jaw slack, he glances from Shiro to the double doors. 

“I-I-I dunno. I’ve never reacted like that!”

* * *

Humming always made Hunk feel relaxed. Whenever he had come face-to-face with challenging obstacles or gaining a new experience like attending Garrison College of Engineering, his moms reminded him to hum to one of the songs they'd play in the kitchen through the 50's retro radio sat on the windowsill next to a plant pot of freshly-grown rosemary. Oh the memories it would bring. Dancing and twirling and tangoing with his family, taking it in turns to ask for his mothers' hand and dance the house down. 

Thinking about those long-lasting memories puts a bright smile on Hunk's face. Not to brag or anything, but he truly believes he had the best childhood ever! Not one, but two moms who love him with all their hearts and are as supportive as big as their hugs - and that's a lot of hugs. It's no wonder Hunk always greets every single person he's introduced to with a hug. It's one of his famous signatures.

A big guy with an even bigger heart who gives the biggest hugs ever!

Anyway, the smell of delicious food lingers the air and Hunk is in bliss and hunger when the tasty scents lead him to the buffet. 

Eyes popping out like Jim Carrey from _The Mask_ , Hunk is in heaven by the large variety of food offered. Cocktail sausages with cubed cheddar cheese, refreshing fruit kebabs, diced Scotch eggs, pork pies, sushi, freshly-baked bread rolls with butter. Every dessert from mint chocolate chip ice cream to pineapple upside down cake, chocolate mousse to lemon sherbets. Cheesy pasta to Caesar salad and beef stew to spicy pork chops.

Hunk was in food heaven.

Mouth watering, where Hunk stood was nothing but a cloud of dust as he zaps it to the buffet. Grabbing a large plate, he fills it with foods that looked utterly divine - which was everything! 

His mind boggled and short-circuiting, Hunk was having a really difficult time not to be greedy but also try practically everything laid out in front of him. The cooks have spoilt him and spoilt him good indeed since the poor man was hovering over the food like a claw machine, unable to decide what to pick out.

Choices, choices, choices. Why was it so hard?!

As Hunk battled WW3 with the buffet, off in the distance a perpetually bloated chef pushes open the stainless steel doors; mumbling curses under his hot breath. The wet cloth in his hands curls and uncurls as steam pours out of his ears. 

Just as he looks about to strangle something or _someone_ , his eyes land on Hunk. Putting on a smile, the chef walks over to him. 

It had been some time and Hunk still couldn’t make up his mind on what to eat. Too many choices had left the poor guy completely baffled. He’d never seen so many types of food presented all at once and he felt like a kid in a candy store. 

“What to choose? What to choose?” He grumbles, swapping from small appetisers to desserts. As soon as Hunk seems to have made up his mind, he is held back when an unknown presence stands beside him. 

“Can I help you?” The chef asks. Hunk looks up in surprise but quickly calms down and smiles at his new company. 

“No thanks, I’m doing okay- actually, I may need your help.”

The chef raises an eyebrow while putting a hand onto his hip. “Alright then, what is it?”

“I can’t seem to choose what to eat. There’s just so many delicious spreads and appetisers and they all smell so good.”

Taking in the compliment, the chef grins as he and his team’s hard work really shows it paid off. Waking up at 3:00am this morning was a good thing. 

“Why thank you very much. I can’t say I did all of this by myself but...” He chuffs. 

“The pasta is sure to fill me up but I’d need something refreshing after, like a couple of orange slices. The fruity and tangy essence will satisfy my tastebuds. The sausages, as juicy and tasty, will go lovely with some applewood smoked cheese and you can’t forget the crackers with butter. Maybe add a few grapes or olives to the mix, I don’t know. There’s so many combinations to explore and taste!”

The chef cocks his head to the side. “You sound like you know what you’re doing.”

Snapping out his thoughts, Hunk blushes as he quickly realises he once again rambled on about food. It’s an old habit.

“Well, I don’t own a bakery for nothing.” Scratching his neck sheepishly “I can show you some homemade recipes I’m sure the passengers will enjoy, if you don’t mind?” 

“Damn right you’ll show me! Come, I’ll introduce you to the team.” The chef exclaims cheerfully, and he takes Hunk under his wing as he drags him to the kitchen. “What’s your name, son?”

“Oh, it’s Hunk.” He replies equally as thrilled. 

“Well Hunk, the name’s Sal-” he introduces himself and the two cooks disappear behind the kitchen doors, the buffet long forgotten.

* * *

“-we shouldn’t have let him go on his own.”

“Shiro how many times do I have to tell you? Keith knows where we are. He has your number so you’re only a phone call away if trouble ensues. Try and relax.”

“Try and relax? My brother is out there walking around like he’s had one whiff of the barmaid’s apron!”

As the two friends bicker, the pool doors open and you’d never believe who strode in.... then again it’s so obvious....

Sunglasses on fleek Keith walks in trying to look polished and strut his stuff. Let me tell you now, his swag looked very much like someone closing their legs together to hold in their piss.

Thumping his feet down the stairs like an elephant, Keith sneaks over to a vacant sun-bed sitting next to a random stranger. The woman peeks through her sunglasses and over her book as Keith slowly lays his ass down onto the cushioned lounger. 

Over on the other side Shiro and Lance are still disagreeing and before Lance can carry on, he catches sight of Keith out the corner of his eye. 

“Oh shit.” He curses loudly, getting a few angry looks. His cursing throws Shiro off and soon the argument is dropped.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Lance points a finger ahead and when Shiro follows his line of sight does he realise what the problem is. His eyes grow wide and shoulders deflate like a balloon. “Oh no.”

Roasting in the gleaming sunlight Keith’s relaxation is disturbed by an unwanted intruder. A black shadow looms over him and when Keith takes a peep, a “tch” slips out and his anger bubbles.

This guy again? Are you kidding?!

“Can’t a guy enjoy sun-bathing in peace?” Keith cockily remarks.

“Anywhere but here.” 

“Ugh, tough crowd.” Keith knew he was pushing Bobby’s buttons but whatever drug Lance gave him made him feel invincible, and extremely cocky.

“Please leave.” The tightness in his tone made Keith smirk. He pushes on.

“I’ve never seen you before.” Blatantly lying in Bobby’s face.

Of course, he wasn’t going to fall for that old trick. “Yes you have. Will closing the entranceway make you stay away from here permanently?”

Keith puts a finger to his chin as he thinks about that. Smart, very smart but not cute. “Hmm nope. I’ll just slip back in like I’ll do in your DM.”

Before this conversation could carry on, Shiro and Lance appear out the blue looking equally panicked. But Keith doesn’t acknowledge this and gives them a great smile. 

“My knights in shining armour. Help me,” pointing at Bobby “this dragon wants to eat me alive.”

“Dragon?” Lance whispers whereas Shiro mumbles an “oh god” before facing Bobby, who’s already began talking to him.

"I am aware this gentlemen is part of your group but he has not shown proof he has access to enter the more private facilities. If he doesn't leave this minute, I will call security for disruptive behaviour and for his removal."

Startled, Shiro quickly replies "that won't happen. We'll just leave this place and take ourselves elsewhere. Is that alright Keith?" He asks him, but by now Keith was far long gone off his head.

"Help me, I'm poor." He whines childishly and Lance had to stop himself from laughing, raising a hand to cover his growing smirk. Did Keith not realise how funny he was intoxicated? God, how Lance wished he was recording this.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Shiro says mostly to himself, brain fizzled. He then turns his attention to Lance and tells him, "We'll wait outside while you grab our bags. I can't leave him alone in this state."

No room for arguing, Lance does what he's told and whisks away back to their sun-beds while Shiro pulls a drunk and moaning Keith off and sends a short apology to the woman before climbing the stairs with some difficulty as Keith flopped around like a fish.

* * *

Waiting outside the men's bathroom for some stranger was not what Pidge had planned for this cruise trip.

This was definitely one of his weirdest, strangest and bizarre moments in his life. Oh well, life goes on.

For the last four minutes - yes, he’s been keeping up with the time, not Kardashians - the back of his heel has been colliding with the wall behind as each second passes, and if he doesn’t stop any time sooner, Christmas will come early for his ankle. It’s present? An orthopedic boot.

Patience wearing thin, Pidge seriously starts to consider that strange man has either escaped through a window or is setting a world record of the biggest dump. Fingers twitching, Pidge lets out a long sigh at the sound of another toilet flushing. 

A couple of seconds pass and the patting of shoes hitting the carpet exits the bathroom in a steady stride. It just so happens that Pidge looks over at the right time to see the stranger walk out the bathroom and head the opposite direction. 

_'Finally!'_ Pidge exclaims in his head and like a bullet, he zooms over to follow the stranger. 

Maintaining a safe distance to minimise suspicion Pidge quickly acknowledges the man takes on a slow walk, glancing here and there at everything that catches his attention. 

_‘Trying to blend in with the crowd. Smart move.’_

I’m sure you readers are thinking: why is Pidge following him? Just hold on a little longer and all will be answered. 

Fifteen minutes had passed and Pidge still stalked him, even as far as hiding between plant pots every time the man seemed like he was looking behind. Pidge couldn’t afford to get his cover blown until the right time came to infiltrate.

However....

As soon as they made their way onto a surprisingly empty open deck, did Pidge’s cover get blown. Suddenly stopping in the middle of the deck, Pidge doesn’t have enough time to hide before the man sharply turns around and glares at him. 

“Why are you following me?” He asks; voice gruff and mildly irritated. Acting face initiated, Pidge glances behind him before facing back and pointing to himself. 

“Me?”

Acting dumb did NOT suit Pidge. At. All.

So bad in fact that the glare on the man’s face hardens. He takes a step closer. 

“Who else? I remember you standing in the shop, staring at me and you’ve followed me ever since.”

“No I haven’t.” Please Pidge, just stop.

“You waited for me outside the gentlemen’s bathroom.”

“Okay,” he sighs and raises his hands “you’ve got me. I surrender. But I’ve gotta ask you something.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” 

“Are you a sea marshal?” Pidge asks without missing a beat. Clearly, this was something the man was not expecting as he pulls back in surprise or confusion. 

“What? No. I’m not a sea marshal.”

“A-ha! You lied!” Pidge exclaims, pointing a figure at the (now definitely) confused man. “So you ARE a sea marshal. Undercover from the look of it. Besides, obvious denial is the first resort to hide your true identity.”

“Look ‘ere lil’ boy.” The man addresses firmly. “I’m not, I repeat, not a sea marshal. You’re creeping me out and you need go away. Run back to mom or something, but stay the hell away from me.”

“I’m 19.”

“I don’t care. Just stay away from me, please.”

Pidge nods. “Sure thing. I’ll stay in the back and keep a look out for you, Thace.”

“Tha- how the fuck do you know my name?!” Thace splutters. Pidge shrugs like it was a completely normal thing to do.

“That’s nothing to worry about.”

“Of course it is. I’ve never met you, and you know my name? What the fuck?”

“My name’s Pidge, you’re Thace. See, now we’ve met.”

“That is not how it works.” Thace says, moving away to put distance between them. Unfortunately for him Pidge closes in, looking calm and comfortable than ever. 

“We can be partners in crime.” Pidge tells him as he keeps up with Thace, who desperately tries to escape.

“For God’s sake! I’m not a sea marshal!”

* * *

  
“I’m such a gay disaster!”

Ignoring Keith complain was a job Shiro took on for the last twenty minutes. Hearing him babble on about stupid shit was not music to his ears, more so chalk on a blackboard.

He’d given up on making his brother’s self-esteem better as he repeatedly spewed degrading assumptions about himself in a very drunk way. The more reason why he shouldn’t take it to heart. Your mouth is uncontrollable when you’re high as fuck on anaesthesia or downed a few drinks with a straw. Believe me, I know first hand.

“Why did my life come to this? Tell me Shiro.”

“Keith you’re not thinking straight.” Shiro tells him bluntly “We need to get you sat down somewhere until this medication wears off.”

“But it feels incredible. Can I have more?”

“Absolutely not.” Shiro replies instantly. Keith huffs and pouts like a child. 

“Bossy pants.” Muttering under his breath.

Shiro glares at him. “Heard that.” 

“Guys?” A voice shouts somewhere in the distance. A voice easily recognisable and Shiro breaths a sigh of relief.

“Over here!” He shouts back, waving a hand. Lance spots them and with both arms full of luggage, speed-walks over to the two brothers. His focus immediately sets onto Keith as he moves closer. 

“There you are. I couldn’t see you two. How is he?”

Sighing, Shiro tugs Keith to stand him up on his feet that are practically dead. “Worse.”

Lance grimaces when Keith whines obnoxiously loud and whacks the side of his head against Shiro’s rock-hard shoulder. He nearly gave himself a fucking concussion!

“What’s he doing here?” He whines into Shiro’s abused ear. 

“Lance is here to help us. You should at least thank him.”

“Alright then,” Keith drags before slowly laying his eyes onto Lance. “Fuck. You.”

“Keith!” Shiro snaps, appalled. But Keith gives him a toothy smile and looks mildly pleased. 

Shiro flashes Lance an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. He doesn’t really mean that.”

“Yes I do.”

“Shut up, Keith.”

Lance understands the situation and shakes off Keith’s response, though it did sound like he really meant it. “It’s okay Shiro. Do you need me to do anything else?”

“An order of gin and tonic delivered to my room later will help a lot.”

Lance laughs at his blunt humour. “The biggest order you’ll ever see will be sent to your door.”

“Pink will do finely.”

Feeling left out, Keith made himself known by accidentally falling out of Shiro’s grasp and onto the floor as he murmurs, “I can fly.”

“Crap!” Both Shiro and Lance curse as they go to help Keith off the floor as he mumbles incoherently. 

Looking around, a half-moon styled sofa sits outside unoccupied and reading each other’s minds they quickly walk over to it, Keith’s feet dragging against the floor.

“Okay, here we go Keith.” Shiro says as they lower him onto the sofa as carefully as possible. “That’s it. Right, you guys stay here. I’m gonna go and get some water.”

However, Lance felt like Shiro had done enough work with keeping an eye on Keith and that he was the one to sit down and take a break. 

“How about I get some water? I don’t mind. Besides, your back is obviously hurting since you’re holding it.”

That made Shiro feel old. “No, no. It’s okay. My back doesn’t hurt at all. I’ll go and get it.”

Before Lance could get another word in, Shiro quickly disappears to fetch some water. Sighing softly, Lance sits and looks over to Keith and is startled to see him glare daggers at him.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Peachy.” It definitely didn’t sound it, Lance figured and his fingers start to tap his knee. Looking once more at Keith, sent his heart to his throat.

Keith looked ready to kill and it scared the absolute shit out of him. What the fuck had he done wrong to deserve such an evil look?

Maybe he was hungry? Everybody gets cranky when they get hungry, right? Lance got cranky, so maybe Keith did too.

“If I get you some food, would you please not choke me with a bread roll or strangle me with spaghetti?” He asks, scared shitless. 

“Only if it tastes good.” Keith replies darkly. A cold sweat soaks Lance’s forehead. Whimpering slightly, he stands up and is aware Keith’s amethyst eyes watch his every move.

Gulping nervously, Lance quickly tells him “and don’t go anywhere” before walking away in a hurry. 

A pounding headache hits Keith like a train and he rests the back of his head against the soft cushions of the sofa. He rubs the side of his head to try and calm the migraine just when something above catches his attention. Double taking, his eyes squint before blowing wide. The hand falls to his side as he looks around frantically for help. 

Glancing around, he soon spots something...

Holding a plate of fragrant slices of oranges Lance quickly makes his way back, praying to God Keith has stayed put and won’t murder him for bad fruit. 

“Hey Keith,” he says when he gets closer, “I know it’s not a lot but I hope you like-" words caught in his throat like fish in a net, all colour - probably even his soul- drains out his face; his feet freeze to the floor.

“I’ve got the water!” Shiro joins in but instantly sees the problem. It’s a surprise the jug doesn’t slip out his grip and smash onto the floor. 

“Lance,” he addresses slowly, eyes not moving away from the empty sofa “where’s Keith?” 

Honestly, Lance knew what to say but couldn’t seem to link his thoughts to his lips. Instead weird sounds slip out as the plate leans a little downward.

“I-we-he-I,” he stutters looking back and forth “he was just here! I was only gone for less than a minute.”

“You left him?!” Shiro exclaims, more worried than angry.

“I told him to stay right there!” He points at the seat Keith previously sat in. 

Shiro rolls his eyes and throws his hands up. “Why on God’s planet did you think he was going to listen?! Jesus Lance.”

Placing the plate down, Lance steps closer to Shiro. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him. He couldn’t have gone far.”

Suddenly, an uproar of anger and confusion erupts from the crowd of party-goers as the music blasting out the large speakers is abruptly stopped and a familiar voice replaces it. 

“I need everybody’s attention. I have an emergency announcement to make-"

Looking at each other, Shiro and Lance choke out an “oh no” before snapping their eyes onto the DJ stand, where lo and behold is Keith holding the mic with all his might.

“There’s a colonial woman stuck on the zip-line. I think she’s churning butter.” His voice had never sounded so scared in all Shiro’s life. 

Dropping the jug of water onto the floor, water splashing and glass shattering over the floor, Shiro and Lance race up to the DJ stand but are beaten to it by a group of angry security guards. 

Keith looks at the advancing security guards, pulls the mic back to his mouth and calmly says “much obliged” before throwing the mic and catapulting off the stage, the security guards hot on his trail. 

Without a moment to lose, Shiro and Lance don’t have to say anything before they join in on the chase, calling out Keith’s name.

* * *

  
  
“I want another twelve margarita pizzas on the dot. Those pies need to be piping hot. What is this? Kindergarten? Let’s get a move on! Those plates aren’t going to serve themselves.” Orders Hunk as a trolley of mouthwatering food leaves the kitchen, him holding the door open as he watches a couple of chefs pull it away to the buffet that is now packed with hungry customers. 

A boisterous roar explodes behind Hunk and a beefy hand slaps on his shoulders. Sal pulls Hunk close as he gazes in excitement at the huge crowd of people, their tummies rumbling and mouths watering. 

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and my team. Look at what you’ve done. You, Hunk, have a gift.”

Smiling broadly Hunk happily replies as he shares a fist pump, “you know it, Sal.”

But the moment was cut short, way too short for Sal’s liking as a chaotic commotion enters the dinning room. A large group of people rush around the tables and chairs, the one in the lead Hunk immediately recognises. 

“Keith?” He ponders aloud and is startled by the security guard chasing him, shouting at the top of their lungs. At the very back was Shiro and Lance who take no notice of Hunk; too focused on saving Keith’s ass.

Hunk’s feet move on their own as he grows concerned for his friends and when Sal turns back to Hunk, his eyebrows rise in surprise when his favourite chef is gone. He catches sight of him running after the group, the toque falling off his head and onto the floor.

Picking it up, he too decides to join in on the chase but set on a different person, screaming “Come back! You must join our team! Don’t leave me!”

* * *

“-have you ever caught someone with drugs up their ass?”

“For fuck’s sake, are you still following me?!”

“Of course you have,” Pidge continues, stuck in his little world “you are an undercover sea marshal after all.”

“I AM NOT A SEA MARSHAL!” Thace roars in fury, face beet red and ears a steam train with the amount of steam pouring out. 

As Pidge opens his mouth, a loud crash and a series of angry voices fill the air. His glasses nearly fall off when people as fast as cheetahs zoom past. He catches sight of a familiar white tuff of hair in the middle of the chase. 

“What the- Shiro?” He whispers at the same time Thace pulls out an officer badge and exclaims the one thing he was so sure about.

“Remain calm everybody! I’m a sea marshal!” He announces before running after the group. Pidge freezes for a second or two, before he practically explodes in exhilaration. 

“Holy shit! I knew it! Oh my god, I fucking called it! Hold up Thace, I got your back.” With that, he sprints away to become a new member in the chase.

* * *

“Stop right there!”

“Hold it!”   
  
“Get back here!” 

Ignoring the security guards, Keith continues running for his life, slightly enjoying the raw adrenaline pumping through his veins but scared shitless as not one, not two, not three but four security guards chase his ass. He was unaware of the other participants calling out for him to stop as the thumping in his ears was too loud for him to pick up their voices.

In chronological order the chase consisted of him, the security guards, Shiro, Lance, Hunk, Sal, Thace, Pidge and Slav.

Slav?! When the fuck did he join? Y’know what, fuck it....

But yeah, that’s who’s part of the chase. I did say shit was going to get wild in the notes. Think this chapter is finished? Think again...

Running into another room, Keith briefly spots a weeping Matt at the bar surrounded by a pile of empty shot glasses, but pays no attention as the blood pumping in his legs keep him moving.

The barman who looked bored quickly turns surprised as the herd pass his bar, drowning out Matt calling his name “Ulaz” in desperation. Amidst the chase, he spots a special someone and whenever he catches sight of him in action, he gets excited and maybe a little horny?

“Thace! I got you babe!” He exclaims, jumping over the counter to help his partner out.

“Horny boyfriend, fuck off. _I’ve_ got his back.”

 _‘Did I just hear Pidge?’_ Keith thinks as he dodges another passenger, who drops her gift bag in fright. _‘Perhaps not.’_

In that moment of thought, Keith became oblivious to see someone barrel towards him from the side and effortlessly tackle him like a rugby player; the wind knocked out of him and ribs turned to dust. Hunk accidentally launches both him and Keith into a small stage where elderly brass players play their instruments. 

A mix of brass and sheet music fly into the air before falling hard and softly onto the floor. An old brass player in his wheelchair is sent rolling off the bloody thing, the wheels upturning and the chair vertical. 

Loud moans of pain erupt from the people amongst the mess, Keith’s muffled by Hunk’s body weighing down on him flattening him like a pancake.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Thace calls out while Ulaz hugs him “we got him.”

* * *

The coach journey back was filled with nothing but sadness and.... sadness I guess. I mean, their first cruise ship adventure was fucked, not to mention Keith was dragged away in handcuffs to the local police station where Shiro spent the last two hours bailing him out. A fine was sealed to pay for the damages, as well as hospital fees but that was better than going to court or worse. 

What wasn’t so great, however, was that Keith knew Shiro wasn’t going to forgive him anytime soon. He wouldn’t be surprised if he never did. Once again, Keith had screwed up. Even bigger this time, and he felt awful. 

This was not how the role of Best Man was laid out to be. In all wedding existence, Keith felt like he was the worst Best Man ever.

He just had to be sat next to Shiro at this moment of time on a smelly coach, flies hovering over him with a bandaged hand and a split lip. As part of his sincere apology, he gave Shiro the best seat: next to the window. 

Luckily, the window was able to work; a cold breeze brushes his skin as the landscape flicks by in silence. He could make out Shiro’s reflection in the slightly dusty glass and his heart sunk.

His brother looked downright miserable and heartbroken. 

Shit. He really fucked up. Now, what does he say? A simple sorry wouldn’t do it, especially the damage been done physically and emotionally. 

“Shiro,” he grows afraid when his mouth moves unconsciously, but he couldn’t seem to stop the flood of words pour out his lips “I promise I’ll make it up to you. I have this amazing idea-”

“That’s nice, Keith but I don’t want to hear it.” Ouch. That hurt, but he knew he deserved to be shot down and spit on. 

Shoulders deflating, Keith looks away hoping for this day to be over and done with so he could put in the past. There was no way it could get any worse-

“In fact, there is something I want _you_ to hear.” Keith would’ve felt hopeful but the depressing mood in Shiro’s voice puts fear in his heart. 

“Yeah, sure. What is it? You can tell me anything.” Did he sound a little urgent? Too much, perhaps?

“Good ‘cause I know what I’m about to say may not be the best thing and I don’t want to come across being a loser. However, I need to get this off my chest and the sooner, the better. Okay?”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “O-Kay?”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro tells him “I feel like the whole Best Man thing is putting too much pressure on you. In fact, I’m sure of it. I feel bad that I put such an honourable and stressful responsibility on you and I shouldn’t have, especially with how things were going before my engagement.”

That didn’t sound good at all. Keith had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

“Not true, but okay.”

“-and I want all of us to have a good time and make long-lasting memories before the wedding itself-"

“Pretty sure they’re long-lasting.”

“-that being said, I’ve come to this final conclusion in order to secure that hope.”

“That would be....?” Keith asks, palms sweaty and heart beating rapidly. 

“I want Lance to plan the rest of my wedding.”

(Fat Amy: whoomp, there it is)

Like a heart monitor going flat, Keith is dead on the inside. That packed way more punch than all the _Rocky_ films combined. He knew he deserved some form of punishment, but damn, even Eminem’s bars would be some weak shit compared to that. 

Keith honestly didn’t know how to feel, or what to feel! He couldn’t feel anything, except for the icy numbness freezing his heart like Anna’s. At 5:08am, I should not be making _Frozen_ puns when this scene is supposed to be sad, unless you found that movie scene upsetting...

All the thoughts in his head were swallowed by heartbreak and the last bit of confidence that battled the raging darkness in his head was sent plummeting to its death like Mufasa- oh for fuck’s sake! 

Seriously though, Keith felt like the entire world came crashing down right onto his feet. This was his only chance to prove to Shiro that he could do it and beat the odds. But he blew it, he fucking blew it and now there was no going back. 

What’s done is done and Keith couldn’t change that. 

“I know it’s not the right time to say this, but I need to as much as I don’t. By doing this, it’ll give you more time to reflect on the troubles affecting you and it’ll give me more time to put my trust in someone I now know can do the job. Lance has been doing this for years, so I know he’ll do great. I hope we can agree? God, I feel like such a big jerk-"

“No, no. Don’t say that. You’re not a jerk.” How Keith was saying this without breaking down, he did not know. The heartbreak was real and heavy, but for now he was fighting through it. What Shiro was saying makes sense and Keith didn’t want to disagree over something so true. “Besides, I get. I understand.”

“You’re not saying this to make me feel better, are you?”

Keith rolls his eyes to strengthen his act. “Fuck Shiro, no. Of course not. If I did I wouldn’t be saying this, right? I understand why it’s come down to this and I don’t disagree. It’ll be best for both of us and I’m sure Lance will do the rest of it perfectly.”

Shiro looks uncertain. “You sure? You’re 100% positive?”

Keith forces a smile, the bitter biting his tongue. “I’m sure. Brothers?” He says, raising a hand. 

Shiro looks down and smiles, connecting his hand with Keith’s in a firm grip. The warmth of his was drastically different to the cold coming off Keith.

“Brothers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to drop a comment or leave kudos, us writers love that shit.


	14. Talk Dirty to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.
> 
> I know I’m a little late but - Merry Christmas ya filthy animals, and a Happy New Year!
> 
> Let’s make 2021 great!
> 
> I did rush to complete this chapter about halfway through so apologises if it’s trash. I’ll be going back over this chapter and making some amendments to make it less shit.
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith’s POV 

Opening my eyes, the morning sunlight hits me and I grimace, sensitive of the godawful brightness. Eventually I adjust to the light and soon, the same old ceiling I’ve slept under for the last six years comes into view. The same cracks, the same chips of dry paint.

Yep, same ceiling. 

Y’know, when I first moved in with Shiro, I never really cared about the damn ceiling. As long as it provided me shelter from those rainy storms, I never thought twice about giving it a fresh coat of paint. 

A yawn pushes up to my lips and I part them to let it out. My jaw cracks as the yawn is loud and big, before snapping my mouth shut when it passes. I wipe away the tears forming in my eyes and brush a hand through my messy locks. 

Immediate regret I tell you as a waft of B.O. escapes from my exposed armpit and hits me right up the nose. The smell of sweat and feet was not part of my morning and I turn away in disgust. It’s then when my eyes land upon the opposite side of the bed that has a large dent creasing the bedsheet. 

“What the...?” I mumble, stroking a hand over the dent. Well whatever was previously there had been gone for some time as coldness hits my palm. I sure as hell don't recall myself or Shiro buying a pet. Since my awakening, light pounding knocked on the walls of my skull and as I go to sit, I’m struck by a very sharp pain. 

I yelp in surprise and pain. The hand retracts off the sheets and onto my lower back. Heat radiates onto my fingertips and I’m alarmed by some strange texture. Something crusty cakes the skin above my ass in a thin layer.

It’s official - this is some Scooby-Doo mystery shit. 

“The fuck?” I whisper tightly, bits of crust falling off when my fingers dig into it. How it did not occur to me straight away, but I suddenly acknowledge....

I’m butt naked. 

Why should I be worried? Because whenever I go to bed I always, ALWAYS, wear a pair of boxers. I never forget them. So yeah, I should feel the least bit worried and confused that my ass is on show and my dick is out when it shouldn’t be! Looking around, I catch sight of a sleeve connected to an abandoned t-shirt hanging off a corner at the end of the bed, and as much as it hurt my brain, I can recall wearing that last night. What I don't recall is physically taking it off.

Help me out people. What the hell happened last night?!

I wake up in the middle of a mess, my clothes discarded all over the place, pain in my lower region that burns like shit - not to mention some weird crust above my ass - and a large dent on the other side of the bed. I'm smelling of sweat and looking in the ornate mirror from the corner of my room, my hair looks like I’ve had sex.....

….wait.... 

.....wait a second.....

.....WAIT A SECOND.....

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT....?!

* * *

_The Night Before...._

  
If I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, well it’s safe to say after today’s extravaganza, I completely surpassed that by a fucking mile.

For the cherry on top, I had officially been stripped of Best Man. Talk about a busy day. So in a very classic way to unwind from all the shit of today, I decided to head to the local bar back in town and reward myself with a glass of rum.

Taking another slow slip, a powerful fragrance drowns my tastebuds in a satisfying warmth. My throat is set alight by the golden liquid passing through. A buzz pounds inside my head as the alcohol brutally kicks in, but guess what, I couldn’t care less about getting wasted - anything to numb the pain for the night until I can’t feel a fucking thing. 

The bottom of the glass hits the dark wood with a thud as I sigh in frustration. A finger taps against the thick glass and I block out the loud voices swarming the atmosphere around me like flies. 

_‘What a day._ _What a fucking, shit-loaded day.’_

Never, in a million years, would my intentions be to hurt Shiro in any shape or form. I guess magic can’t predict what the future holds in store. Life isn’t fair and fuck, did it piss me off. Put your middle fingers up in the air and shout “SCREW YOU, LIFE! SUCK MY BIG TOE!”

Anger and sadness bang their heads together as I sit alone, upset and frustrated by the bad luck I am unfortunately blessed with. Everything had gone to shit and yet again, I find my ass in the middle of it.

Tipping the rest of the drink down my burning throat, an angry sigh quickly follows suit. What did I do to deserve this? Yes, being the Best Man put a lot of pressure on me but this was just ridiculous.

_‘Look at the bright side Keith, at least you won’t have to deal with the world weighing down on you anymore since Lance is in charge now.’_

Lance. Fucking Lance. Lance this and Lance that. He may as well label his name on everything he breathes on. 

God, that bastard makes my blood boil like a lava pit. Everything I do, Lance just hops out of his little hidey-hole and does it ten thousand times better. A bloody perfectionist who everyone literally bows down to as if he was royalty. A fucking snob is what he is. 

Why am I the only one who sees what he _really_ is?

Honestly, what does Shiro see in him? The only thing I see is trouble stir inside his blue eyes and a spark of mischief whenever we lock sight. What is his problem with me? I bet you it’s because Shiro chose me to be the Best Man over him, no matter of how much money he bribed him. 

I guess that doesn’t matter anymore since Lance finally got what he asked for since the get-go. 

Everything I did to make Shiro’s day special came from my heart. All Lance will do is give it by the countless dollars in his credit card. I hate rich people. They’re snobby. They’re ignorant. They’re a fucking joke!

Well fuck him! I don’t need some rich, posh boy to get in the way of spending time with my brother. 

My emotions a rollercoaster I decide to end my night of heavy drinking and head back home.... alone. Shiro wanted to spend some time with Adam so he’s off doing that. I don’t blame him. Neither of the two lovebirds hadn’t seen each other for weeks so it’ll be nice to spend time together, all cuddled up and dressed in their onesies on the couch; warm mugs of hot chocolate with melted marshmallows as they enjoy each other’s company, never wanting the moment to end....

Maybe having the apartment to myself isn’t as bad as it sounds. Finally I have some downtime without no-one disturbing me, except for the voice in my head whispering dark thoughts into my ear; smirking like the devil it is. 

Yep, great company. 

Standing up off the barstool, the moment I grab ahold of my leather jacket after sitting on it for two hours a cocktail I know I never ordered is placed in front of me.

I raise an eyebrow as my eyes are dragged down to the cocktail glass. A dry martini - something I wouldn’t usually think of off the top of my head. I look to the bartender, who’s busy shaking up another cocktail. 

“I never ordered this.” I tell her, pointing to the drink. 

Pausing momentarily, she glances at the drink before shrugging. “I know,” the bartender says as she garnishes a pink lady with a maraschino cherry. “He did.”

“He?” I follow her finger when she points to the other end of the bar.

A pair of eyes as blue as the ocean stare at me as the young, good-looking man pats the vacant seat next to him. It’s a good job the bartender moved away from me as my sight is infused with red; my fists curl as anger rapidly boils up. 

Lance.

Without a moment to waste, my hands grasp the cocktail glass and I make my way over to the gorgeous bastard. He sips a dirty martini with those glossy lips before finally noticing my presence entering his territory.

“Keith.” He says with a smile. The prick. “Man, am I glad you’re here-"

I cut him off by placing the cocktail down beside him. “What’s this?”

Lance takes a look before looking back up to me. “It’s a dry martini.”

My teeth nearly break as I clench them so fucking hard. God I want to beat the stupidity out of him. 

“I know that.” I snap angrily. “I’m asking why did you order it for me? To rub another victory in my face? To make me feel bad ‘cause I’m fucking broke? Is that it?!”

Anger and alcohol should never be mixed. It’s a recipe for disaster. 

With every question, my anger rose higher and higher to the point I was leaning into Lance, our foreheads close to touching. Lance’s eyes widen as I glare daggers into his soul and he nearly falls off his stool the more I close in on him. 

“W-what? No! No, I-I didn’t mean for it to come across like that-"

“Bullshit.” Spit flicks onto his face, making him grimace in disgust. I would’ve apologised if I wasn’t so pissed and drunk.

Lance raises his hands as he shrinks under my icy glare. “Keith I swear on my life I would never stoop to a level that low. I’m sorry you had to feel that way, but I promise I had no intentions hurting your feelings simply by buying you a drink.”

“Then why?” I was going to get answers and I was going to get them now!

Lance wipes away the spit I accidentally spat onto him before slouching like a hunchback. He taps the empty seat again without saying a word. Giving in, I slowly sit down as he begins to talk. 

“After today’s events I realised how much of it was my fault, starting off by giving you something which I should have never done. Medication works differently on everyone and had I known how you’d react, I would have never given it to you. I was just trying to help, instead I made matters worse and now I feel shit.”

Though my face stayed the same, some of the anger disappeared as I heard the genuine guilt in his voice. Maybe, just maybe he wasn’t such a dick? He still is, but not as much as I thought before. 

“I wanted to apologise, so I went to your apartment-"

That is when I cut him off. “Wait wait, hold up. You went to my apartment?”

A sheepish grin appears as Lance nervously twiddles his thumbs. “I wanted to apologise since I’m the one who made you act all crazy. But because you weren’t in at the time, I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me or that you wanted some alone time. I haven’t really been in town before so I guess I went on a little sightseeing trip and,” he gestures to himself “here I am. When I saw you looking glum and defeated, I wanted to cheer you up but apologise at the same time so I thought buying you a drink would help. It’s the least I could do for the shit I caused for you today and I won’t be hurt if you don’t want it. Hell by all means throw it in my face, just know I’m really sorry.”

He waits patiently as I allow the words to sink in. I honestly expected some half heart, half ass apology or fake, over-the-top waterworks from this guy but I got none of that. Either he’s telling the truth or he’s a fucking _Oscar_ winner. 

Before I know it, I’m raising the cocktail glass to my lips and gulp a generous amount all while keeping my eyes on Lance, who stares back. 

“Fuck that’s good.” I groan.

Lance laughs as I take another gulp and he softly twirls the olive around his dirty martini with a cocktail stick. “Had a feeling you’d like it. So....?”

I swallow the next gulp full and place down the empty glass. “I forgive you, for now.”

A wide smile lights up Lance’s face and makes my heart skip a beat at his stunning beauty. Shit, that’s the drink talking. I better stop and call it a night before things escalate.

Lance, however, pulls out his wallet and takes out a few dollar bills. He captures my attention with a cheeky grin and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

“Care for another?”  
  


***

I really should’ve known better. 

One cocktail turns to four and by now, Lance and I are fucking wasted. Poor Lance had gotten so drunk he fell off his stool a couple of times, one time taking his drink down with him and spilling it all over his clothes. 

The bartender had to come and help him up as we were both in hysterics and nearly pissing ourselves. I swear I could feel a set of abs on my stomach by the sheer amount of laughing I had been doing. 

A cluster of empty cocktail and shot glasses piled up in front of us, which were quickly forgotten about as we continued to drink the bar dry and have a good time. 

“Did I ever tell you...” Lance tries to say but is caught by an onslaught of hiccups, “about the time I.... broke my arm?”

Ripples appear on the surface as I laugh inside my drink. “Really?”

“I broke tdhis arm... right here.” He lifts his left arm which loosely dangles in the air. 

“How the fuck did you do tshat?” My god I couldn’t form words. 

“I fell off the shwing.” A downtrodden frown grows on his face. “Mama washn’t happy.”

I take another sip. “No?”

“She shpanked me!” An eruption of laughter fills our spot and I notice the bartender smile sweetly at us. When the laughter dies down, Lance rests his head against his slender arm on the counter. “You’re such a good f-friend, Keef. My Keef.”

“Y-you.. are so fffucking drunk.” I point out, my speech slurry. 

“I know!” Lance whines loudly, leaning far back. I grow worried he would fall off his stool for the third time tonight, instead he collapses onto my lap. 

I blush scarlet when his mouth is near my crotch. 

“I love you Keef.”

Okay, that’s definitely the vodka talking. “N-no you don’t.” I stutter, looking down as he pulls a tipsy smile. 

“Yesh I do. Been waitin’ to tell you.”

I have no idea what it was, but drunk Lance is putting me under a spell. There’s a certain tone in his voice that is never there when he was sober and weirdly enough, it made me feel warm. 

“I’ve waited sooo long to tell you.” Lance continues. The blush darkens as he inches closer to my dick which starts to pitch a tent. 

“So have I.” I find myself saying. Surprise flashes across Lance’s face before it’s quickly replaced by a cheeky grin. 

“Never knew you were that type.”

I laugh awkwardly as my ears burn red. Why do my palms feel sweaty? “W-well, I didn’t know you were the same.”

Lance looks up with an adorable, goofy smile. Damn, drunk Lance is cuter than normal Lance. 

“I have many secrets.” He whispers and my breath catches as a warm hand touches my cheek. “Lots and lots of secrets.” My body is as stiff as a board when he drags the hand down to my neck and onto my chest. A naughty smirk appears on Lance when I yelp at the touch.   
  
“You’re sensitive.” His voice luring it makes me feel drunk. My heart starts to hammer against my chest as I watch his hand fall lower and lower. Lance emits tiny pants when he reaches my toned stomach.

“So sensitive.” He gasps, sounding a little breathless. 

A sweat wets my forehead. “I-I... g-guess so.”

Blood hits my dick 100mph when I feel the vibrations of Lance’s hums wash over my crotch. Why was he so close to my dick?! Don’t say he’s going to blow me in public! 

I squeak like a mouse when Lance addresses my name in a very low voice. “Y’know Keith, I could show all my secrets. All my hidden talents.”  
  
I gulp nervously. “Y-yeah?”

“I’ve been waiting to show you.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine as he drags a fingertip down my hardening length.

“Y-yeah?” I wouldn’t be surprised if my soul leaves my body as Lance pulls the most seductive smile I’ve ever seen. 

In a silky tone, he leans into my ear while a finger draws circles around the tip of my dick, “If you’d let me, I can show you what these fingers can _really_ do....”

***

The apartment door slams open and I could give two shits about a dented wall as me and Lance are in the moment. Kissing sloppy and tongues locking, we stumble inside like we both have two left feet as the heat between us intensifies. I can't even begin telling you how good Lance's mouth tastes. It’s like a liquor store and a sweet shop mashed together. The cocktail scent sizzles my taste-buds but the sweetness is oh so refreshing.

Fuck, I want more. This is better than I could've ever imagined. God I'm such a greedy whore.

We're blinded by the raw pleasure so much, tables are bumped into and decorative homeware are knocked off their stands as we push and grind each other with a fiery urgency. A wave of shock hits me as Lance pushes me up against a wall, our lips locked tight. The horny bear I am, I don't need to tell my body what to do as my legs wrap around Lance's waist.

For a split second, my lips break away as I gasp when a pair of warm hands cup my ass. Holy shit! Lance is touching my ass! He’s touching MY FUCKING ASS! 

Just like me, Lance is hungry for more and soon our lips interlock again. The fire burning in my heart explodes like a fiery bomb. Famished and horny, I push my groin into his and Lance growls at the sensation. He then squeezes my asscheeks; fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

I moan helplessly into the kiss.

In the wake of an opening, Lance’s tongue dives into my mouth and the back of my head hits the wall I’m happily pressed upon. My hands wrap around Lance’s neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. We both moan as we lose track of time.

“mmh, Keith.” Lance pants, taking a couple of breaths before going back in.

“Mmmm.” I moan deeply, lips smashing together. Fuck, he’s a good kisser. “L-Lance...”

Lance pants as he looks into my eyes. “Fuck, you sound so good.” 

I hardly have any time to process that before Lance is attacking my neck, his hot breath against the flushed skin sends shivers down my spine and the sucking and biting makes me moan louder. As he continues to leave a trail of bite marks, I can’t help but grab handfuls of his chocolate hair as I turn my head to gift Lance more skin I want his teeth to sink into like a vampire.

Dear Gay God, thank you for giving me this blessing. 

I’m not lying when I tell you my dick has been aching for the last few minutes as it pushes aggressively against its denim cage. Lance has passed with flying colours and nothing will excite me more than putting him up to the final test. 

Letting go of his silky hair - seriously how much conditioner does this guy use? The whole bottle? - my hands lay atop of his chest and begin pushing. Lips wanting more but mind alert, Lance pauses and I can tell he’s reluctant to stop.

So instead of being a douchbag, I redeem the lost time by quickly telling him, “bedroom.”

Lance doesn’t need to be told twice for a wicked grin spreads across his face that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Arms wrapping around his neck, Lance surprises me when he digs his fingers deeper into my ass to keep me in place as we relocate, all while making me feel like a million bucks with those hot kisses he rewards my neck. 

I give him directions, correcting one or two as I’m so distracted by the raw pleasure my body feels when a hand creeps under the hem of my shirt; his fingertips trailing the hidden skin.

The excitement grows after my bedroom door is pushed open. Before I know it, I’m dropped onto the bed and held captive by Lance who lays on top of me. I’m lost in swirls of royal blue that stare back at me.

Lance makes me shiver when he licks those red, swollen lips and I close my eyes when he anchors down hurriedly. Gasps fill the room as he leaves a fresh trail of kisses down the other side of my neck. He pinches the shirt collar and pulls it down to gain access to more of my body. 

“L-Lance...” I audibly moan when he starts pecking my collarbone. It makes my skin tingle and toes curl. “S-shit..”

I want to smack him on the head after feeling his lips curl into a smile against my flushed skin. Bastard. But I love him.... wait wha- 

“~Aah!”

I know Lance is enjoying my body’s reactions to his touch as my back arches off the flattened duvet when he suddenly squeezes my nipples. My chest heaves the more he teases them, pinching and squeezing; twisting and pulling. I never felt him push my shirt up to my chin. I’m fucking hopeless. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Lance teases, watching and listening to the moans pour out of me. “You like me touching you up, don’t you kitten?”

Holy fuck! 

“I’m the only one to make you feel this way, aren’t I? Drive you utterly insane with a single touch. Poor kitten can’t get enough, can you?”

Yes! Oh God yes, you bastard!

My body twists and turns while Lance continues pinching both nipples. I can feel them harden and cook under his warm touch. 

“Kitten wants his playtime, don’t you? You ready for some playtime Keith?” The way my name rolls of his tongue makes me melt. I can’t seem to focus or think straight as Lance loosens me up. 

I nod urgently. “Yes. Fuck Lance, yes!”

“What’s the magic word?” Lance grins. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying this a lot and so am I. 

“P-please. Please Lance.” I whine, “Please.”

An evil smile smears his face and my heart beats faster, banging against my chest like drums as Lance lowers his parting mouth down. As soon as his bumpy tongue glides over a hard nipple, I throw back my head and let out loud groans. 

Like sucking a pacifier, Lance bites and flicks his wet tongue back and forth over my nipple; rubbing the other between a thumb and index finger. This continues for a while and throughout it all, I gasp and moan aloud. 

With a final suck, his lips plop off the nipple but he doesn’t immediately stop to take a breather. My stomach had caught his attention and now, the sensation of his tongue gliding down the middle had me weak. 

I huff and I puff, breathless and in heaven with Lance’s exhilarating touch. This guy has no clue what the hell he’s doing to me. Or maybe he does I don’t know. What I do know is that I want more- HOLY SHIT! HE’S KISSING MY DICK!

My dick screams to be freed as Lance kisses the prominent bulge. Chest heaving, I’m captured by his blue eyes looking up at me mischievously.

“I want to touch you more.” Lance growls, licking his lips before bending down to give a light kiss to the bulge. 

“I want to taste you.” Another kiss.

“I want to feel you.” And another.

I shudder as a finger toys with the zipper. My mouth is zipped shut as Lance pinches the tiny piece of metal and slides it down at a gradual pace. My aching cock raises the tiniest bit but is still held captive behind my boxers. 

Lance licks his lips. “Look at you. Aching. Begging. You dirty kitten.” 

That’s right. I’m your dirty, cock-sucking kitten. 

“Lance?” I shudder. He looks up at me and I lock our eyes together. “Make me filthy.”

How that sets him off.

Like a ravished wolf, Lance pulls the boxers and jeans down enough to free my hard manhood. I bite my bottom lip as my leaking dick stands to its full glory, flopping onto my stomach.

Lance makes my blush darken the more he stares at my dick like it’s a snack. Dinnertime, cocksucker. The moment his tongues glides over the length is when my eyes roll back, mouth agape. 

All kinds of sounds leave me as Lance takes his time sucking me off. The heat pooling in my stomach transforms into a violent whirlpool. My dick in his mouth is better than anything I’ve experienced and felt cause SHIT! Did it feel fucking amazing. 

I’m on cloud 9 and I never want to fall.

My hips begin to thrust as the pressure builds the more Lance wraps his sweet tongue around my aching cock. In less than a minute I’m about to blow and melt like ice-cream in Lance’s mouth. 

“L-Lance.... ngh.... aah Lance.... oh ffff~uck,” I gasp. With every sound, Lance sucks deeper, longer and hungrier. “Hah, hah.... Lance, L~Lance! M-move.... move b-b-before... s-shit....”

Just as the cork is about to pop, I’m left a whimpering mess on the bed as Lance removes his mouth off my twitching dick. The tender skin is flushed and hot to the touch. Our eyes connect and something inside me jumps.

“Ready for the fun part, kitten?” Lance lures, voice silky smooth it sends shivers down my spine as cold as ice. 

I nod, a tiny whimper escaping as my dick painfully jumps and the tip twitches in anticipation. A smile twists his lips in an evil yet captivating way that makes me breathless. I jump when the feeling of fabric slides down my legs and off onto the floor with a soft thud. Wanting him to have the full nudity, I pull off the creased shirt up over my head and throw it off to the side, unwanted and forgotten.

How he doesn’t blow a load right there and then amazes me as Lance is practically drooling like a dog.

Seeing him this way does something indescribable to me and I shock not only him, but myself as well as I sit up and start unbuttoning his shirt. Seconds after, he clocks onto what I’m doing (and want) and my fingers are replaced by his as he starts to undress himself. I find my fingers tracing the skin of his neck and I pull our lips together, locking them into place while Lance chucks his shirt away and unbuckles his belt. 

His trousers and boxers are discarded. I look down. Now I’m surprised I don’t blow a load. His dick is HUGE! A staggering nine inches of flustered, sensitive goodness standing right in front of my eyes. 

_‘Shit! Will it even fit?’_

A smirk curls Lance’s lips when he notices my longing, amazed gaze at his impressive manhood. “Like what you see?”

My throat is dry and words are nonexistent the more my eyes trace the utter thickness of his dick. Looks like Christmas came early this year. I lick my lips and his dick twitches. 

“Ready for some _real_ fun, my little kitten?”

I nod and the beating of my heart turns to rapid fire as Lance places a hand on my knees, keeping his eyes glued to mine. 

“Then spread your legs for me.”

What happens next I makes my heart skip a beat as I spread my legs for him and present the hard, flushed cock his soft lips were wrapped around moments prior. Lance shuffles closer and using the precum that squirted out of my pulsing cock, smothered his fingers in it before lining a finger up to my tight hole. 

“I-I’ve got lube...” I try to tell him, but the sensation of a finger inserting into my ass shuts me up, except for the gasps and moans pouring out of my mouth as his finger pulls in and out in a steady motion. 

Beneath my moaning, wet squelches fill the air as Lance begins sliding two fingers in and out of me. Whereas my panting is loud and heated, his is hot and controlled. My whines are needy every time his fingertips glide like heaven into my loosening hole.

I’m completely stretched as Lance adds a third finger and my ass is screaming in pain and pleasure. I can feel his fingers dig deep within me like he was searching for buried gold and I knew his fingers wouldn’t fully satisfy me.

I need something bigger... much bigger.

With a final incision Lance’s fingers pull out and the rings of muscle inside my ass relax and contract wildly. My hand is already opening the drawer of the bedside table and an all-to-familiar tube is captured into my grasp. 

Opening the cap, I don’t need to tell Lance anything as he grabs ahold of the tube and squeezes out a generous amount of lube. He hurriedly applies it to his thick dick as I tease him by spreading my legs out an inch more and raising my hips slightly off the bed to give him a better view of my reddened hole he’d fingered so very well.

Lance looks me sternly in the eyes. “You ready?”

“Give it to me.” I answer, the excitement raw and the alcohol calming my nerves. I flinch when I feel his cockhead, the foreskin having pulled back, press against my entrance. Gripping the deflated duvet between my fingers we both groan at different levels as Lance carefully enters me. It’s a really good thing I was prepped beforehand as his dick is thick and impressively long. My ass would’ve never forgave me if I didn’t allow Lance’s fingers to toy with my tight hole.

Back arching, I gasp and groan in a mix of pleasure and pain as Lance continues to guide his way into me at a steady manner. I can hear his own grunts as he finally fills my ass and adjusts to the slight tightness his fingers couldn’t reach. 

Fuck I feel stuffed. 

This guy is something of my wildest dreams and here he is, laying on top of me with his dick penetrating my ass. After we both get used to the feeling of each other, do I give the all clear for Lance to start thrusting. Holy shit was I not prepared for the utter rapture I felt all over my body as he slowly pulls out and then thrusts back in without missing a beat.

His dick spreads me out so fucking wide I worry he might tear me apart. I’m beyond belief as he quickens his pace and literally starts pounding into me. My moans reach higher octaves and I choke a little on dry air as Lance goes to town. 

“Ngh~! Hah, Hah... Lance,” I gasp breathlessly, “..oh ffff-uck! Ngh, aah...”

Lance grunts, groans and moans louder and louder the more he pounds relentlessly into my ass, the wet slap of skin filling the air. I can feel smooth skin of his balls smack against my asscheeks and a small bulge swells inside my abdomen every time Lance fills my ass with his fat cock. 

Lance groans as sweat drips down his face and locks of hair stick to his forehead. “Holy-... oh my god, Keith! F-fuck, so tight..”

“So big, s-so fucking big..” A cry of pleasure cuts through the air as Lance’s dick slams into my prostate. “Lance! Ah, ah s~shit! Hah, hah....ngh!”

I can sense myself nearing the end and I’m positive Lance is the exact same. For a split second I’m worried about the neighbours filing a noise complaint as me and Lance are like fucking opera singers. He grabs my hips while I pull out at his roots, calling his name out to the sky; him doing the same.

“L-Lance I’m close, Lance....I-I’m c-close, S~shit! I’m close.. fuck Lance...”

“Keith, K-Keith.. holy fuck, ngh! Hah, hah... God Keith, s-shit!...”

Each thrust ploughs into my prostate, sending fiery sparks of pleasure up into my body and tingling my fingertips and toes. On one final, powerful, deep thrust, his hot dick cooking my gaping asshole I come in a loud yell. Spurts of cum shoot out in thin lines onto my stomach and Lance quickly pulls out before blowing his load onto my bare ass. 

With my legs raised off the bed, I feel a long trail cascade down the crack between my bruised cheeks and stick to my lower back. We’re both panting heavily and sweating our dicks off as we ride out the sweet pleasure and satisfaction. 

Collapsing beside me, I can smell the saltiness of sweat radiate off Lance as he gasps for air, chest heaving and mouth open wide. I’m literally a mirror image as the pool of heat gradually disperses down below and my dick softens as I recover my breath. 

Like any workout, I started to feel the effects as tiredness rains down upon me and I struggle to keep my eyes open as my body and mind begin to shut down for the night. I try to fight back as much as I can, but in the end, exhaustion wins and I feel my eyelids start to close.

Before I blackout, I swear I felt a hand take mine into their warm grip....

* * *

  
_Present Day..._

Lance fucked me.

Lance. Fucked. Me.

We. Had. Sex. S-E-X. Sex. Fucking sex. I let him put his dick in my-

A hand suddenly slaps my cheek. Brain frizzled and fried, my head collides back onto the pillow as I stare up at the ceiling with wide eyes. Oh my dear God, we had sex...

FUCKING SEX!! WE HAD SEX! THAT BASTARD FUCKED ME IN THE ASS! AND I LET HIM!

I gasp loudly, the thought set in stone. “I let him.”   
  
One of my hands grab ahold of a corner of a pillow to the side of me, before throwing it up and slamming it down onto my face. Using it wisely, I scream into it. 

“For fuck’s sake Keith! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID! AAAHHH!”

As the memories so horribly replay in my head, a certain scene sticks to me and to my horror, I uncover something undesirable.

I throw the pillow off my face and look up to the ceiling in morbid shock. “We didn’t use protection.” A hand slaps onto the side of my head, my stinky hair matted. “We didn’t use protection. AH FUCKING HELL!”

Someone just please put me out of my misery. PLEASE! There’s no going back from this. Lance has probably run his mouth off and told half the bloody world. Jesus wept, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?! Nothing, I mean NOTHING, is going to be the same. I don’t think I can ever look or think or speak to Lance ever again. 

To help my depressed, sore - how big was his dick?! I can’t feel anything down there! - ass, I steadily sit up to not disturb the destroyed chambers of my aching asshole... or whatever’s left.

That’s when I spot a piece of paper on my bedside table.

Eyes squinting in suspicious curiosity, I carefully lean over and take the folded paper between my fingers before bringing it closer. Something in the pit of my gut told me not to open it, practically screaming at me to do anything but that. I ignore it and open the piece of paper up - what can I say? I’m stubborn and I like it. 

Maybe not this time, however....

I really don’t know if it was embarrassment or anger or sadness that consumed me like a tsunami but what was written made my heart drop and my blood freeze. Not boil, freeze. My hand begins to shake the more I stare at the message, wondering if this was some kind of sick joke or a warning or a horrible mockery. I knew just the person who wrote this and if I didn’t hate them before, I wanted to fucking murder them right now.

Want to know what was on the note? This:

_‘Last night was a mistake.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part to my new series, Ray of Sunshine, is out! Go check it out and see what you think!
> 
> For the last week, I’ve felt off with a headache here and a sore throat there and guess what happened on Christmas Day? 
> 
> Not only did I get drunk and overly stuffed with delicious food, I got the flu - badly - and was bedridden for the rest of the evening, so I missed the deadline for the next update.
> 
> Christmas 2020, what a fucking joyride.
> 
> Remember to drop a comment or leave kudos, us writers love that shit.


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